It’ll be a half century next year. A whole fifty. Can you believe it?
My great-grandmother, who stood at the head of six generations and lived until I was 25, made it to 93. My son’s father left us at 19 though. And my own father—I’ve already lived more years than he got the chance to. Life’s not promised and it’s not set in stone either, which is exactly why I’m committed to making mine radiate.
And now… it’s my turn at 50.