When I was a teenager I assumed my twenties would be mostly for love. There would be a bit of having of a job, of course, though I didn’t think too hard about what that job would be. I knew it would be paid well and mostly involve saying good ideas aloud before taking a very long lunch. My thirties I didn’t really think of at all. Why would I? They were so far from me, further than time-scientists were yet able to measure. My twenties would be for love and they would last for the rest of my life.
Now my twenties are done and done forever I wonder what exactly I’ve learned. What’s on my shelf of souvenirs? What’s proved most true? What am I still holding? What should I put down?
You’ve got to take care of the love that already exists in your life. I spent so much of my life complaining I was hungry while standing in front of the buffet. I was rich in love and behaved like I had nothing. My friends were excellent, messy, brilliant people who I took for granted because I believed romantic love was more potent.