Live every day as though it were the first day of your life.
John had decided not to go back to art school. It had been his dream through all of those tortuously dull years of looking forward; looking forward. But now, here he was, and it just seemed silly. Besides, his hands hurt most of the time from Arthritis and holding a brush would be difficult.
What he had gotten was comfort. No worries about money, where to live, health, nothing. After all that having to be somewhere all the time and struggling and rushing and hard days and nights, it was great to just relax.
The grand kids were coming on Tuesday and he liked that. They were fun to watch: "all that energy".
He liked to sit and watch the news or shop for those things he'd always wanted.
The books he hadn't had time to read back then, or that video, "what was that video?".
He'd bought a guitar with some video lessons from some guy who sounded "pretty good!", but eventually gave it to one of the kids.
"Art School" was the last lay-away item to be abandoned. He'd always thought of himself as an artist. All those dull years, he had thought: "I'm really an artist." Now, he knew better, or was too tired to care.
All he wanted now was to be comfortable and rest after his long journey here.
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