I am certain that, when my parents were my age and still alive, there were nights like this in which they looked at their hands and marveled at the passage of time. At 71 my hands bear the history of physical work and household chores, as my parents' hands also bore them.

When I look at my hands I am happy to have lived long enough, to be retired, and to be living only for myself, for my children, and for my grandchildren.

The only things uncertain now are how many more novels and plays these hands will write, and how many more paintings they will create.