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What I Would Tell You About Life If I Died Today
I’m writing this from a hotel room in Peel, a tiny town on the west coast of the Isle of Man. This morning I had breakfast watching the Irish Sea wash the beach just steps from the hotel’s front porch, and tonight I plan to sit on a bench on the promenade and watch the sun set over the water. In the meantime, I’ll saunter around town, revel in the sunshine, and write.
I’ve been here on the Isle of Man for the past two weeks to see the annual TT motorcycle races, a thrilling event that attracts bike aficionados from all over the world. And I’ve spent most of that time in the company of a good friend — riding on the back of his Bandit 1200, enjoying the gorgeous scenery, sharing the excitement of the races.
I’m more relaxed and happy than I’ve ever been in my 52 years. For the first time in my life, I wake up looking forward to the day. I’m excited for the future.
In other words, life is good. And I’m grateful. Because I know life isn’t wonderful for everyone, and because it hasn’t always been this way for me, either.
Sometimes I’ve felt like a lab rat that’s been running through a maze for the past 52 years.
