About a dozen neighbors gathered together for coffee, donuts and kolaches.  We have great neighbors. I’m the “kid” of the group at just a tad shy of 67. No doubt about it, though, the gathering of oldsters represents a library full of stories and books of wisdom thanks to the lives lived among the group.

I noticed Bob’s walk, showing signs of discomfort as he moved from the coffee pot to the island in his open kitchen area. I inquired. He said it was his back. “Injury, genetics or…,” I was asking when he finished my inquiry with, “Too many birthdays.” We both nodded and the conversation moved on to a variety of things, ranging from fishing to gardening to … whatever old guys talk about.

After about 90 minutes, my wife and I had to bug out so we could go to my little slice of heaven, my place away from places, in the piney woods. There is always much work to do there, and I had a list of maintenance-type tasks to take care of. It won’t be long when I will need to tackle the long, more demanding list of labors, but for today…a nice drive out and back, and a few chores would be sufficient.

Coming onto the property, the path was blocked by a pine tree that had fallen.  About 20 feet long, it represented a new task for the day. I leaned over it, hefted it and slid it sideways. I repeated this several times before getting it where I wanted, or close enough. I smiled to myself as my back reminded me of my age and Bob’s comment, “Too many birthdays.” But then again…not enough of them.

There are not enough birthdays to take in all that is so grand in life. Sweat dripped off my old man nose and forehead, my muscles did the best they could do to accommodate my requests of them, the birds’ communications filled the air, white dewberry blooms were scattered everywhere, the sound of water flowing out of the lake was a sign the beavers may have finally decided to leave my little lake alone, greens of multiple shades and hues were popping out all over the ground and in the trees, telltale signs of feral hogs and other wonders of nature reminded me of the life on the land, dreams about the next improvements swirled in mind, and a all the while my wife smiled lovingly at her guy’s hard-headed commitment to do things as if he was 30. There are simply not enough birthdays to enjoy all there is.

Even when I can’t do all that I used to do; even when my capabilities remind me that too many birthdays have passed for me to tackle some things that I want to…I can notice all that is true, beautiful and good, which reminds me to relish the moment for all that is contained in it. There is more in each moment than we can absorb. It takes time to soak even a fraction of all there is. There simply are not enough birthdays.