It Will Catch Up With You.

Life.

Time.

Mortality.

Are simply a few of the things on my mind on this otherwise quiet Sunday night.

A glass of wine.

And a photo album I haven't looked at in a long time.

It feels like it was so easy then. But was it, really? My parents were my age then. Did they have the worries and anxieties I have now? Was it harder or easier for them?

I can't help but wonder, looking at their young smiling faces, what was on their mind? I mean, really, behind the smiles and the hugs and the family vacations, were they scared? Were they content? Did they know where they were going or were they as restless and worried as I am now?

And then I see me, little me, and it feels so weird seeing me as a kid. My sibling as well. I've been a grown up for so long, it almost feels impossible I was once a child.

And my parents, so young and strong and dark haired then, and you look at them today, smiles still there, the love still there and yet, they look vulnerable.

To life.

To time.

To mortality.

As we are all, of course, but as long as you're young you don't seem to notice that much, right? I mean, you don't even realize it's gonna happen to you. How could it possibly happen to you?

The scare we had recently really put things into a somber perspective and I can't help but think, almost every time, is this the last time?

Last Christmas, last birthday, last Sunday?

I look at a picture, a family holiday somewhere hot apparently, almost 30 years ago, two young beautiful people and two very young children, all smiles and hugs. Is that still us? We look so different in photos now. So... grown up!

My parents had a family at my age. I can't even keep a plant alive. I'm with a suitcase in hand, one day I'm here, the next I'm not. And on this quiet Sunday night, I wonder, will I be happy and content when time catches up with me?