Turned thirty-two almost three weeks ago, which is an age that is still considered quite young, but is no longer thought of as that young. It is a strange liminal stage that is past young adulthood and more fully into being, as the kids say, “grown-ass.” Expecting to live to my expected lifespan, I have at least another fifty years, including at least 30 more years of being not old.
It is really interesting to look at it in different units of time, like months, weeks, days, hours. It is a real shock to learn that all of 500,000 hours may remain of my natural lifetime, or in other words 3,000 weeks or so, the equivalent of 690 months.
Yet if I account for how much time until I am north of “retirement age” — while knowing that for most of my cohort we may never actually retire — that leaves only 2,000 weeks, or 460 months, or (roughly) 330,000 hours.
Three hundred thousand hours, give or take, is what I have until society will consider me among the ranks of the elderly. Time really is precious, so there is no point in wasting of any of it worrying over its passage. The truth is, all of our days are numbered; we just don’t know the number.
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