The most oft asked question I get each April 16th is whether or not I feel older.

The day marks the passing of yet another birthday, and the usual response is “well, maybe a little bit.” But that was not the answer this year. It couldn'’t be.

A couple of weeks ago when I was spending the weekend with my brother, Mark, I lamented the thought of turning 35 years of age. It was not quite as bad as turning 30 had been, mind you, but still a landmark year of sorts -– ever closer to the “abyss” of 40.

Hearing my statement, Mark turned away for a moment in thought before giving me an incredulous look, saying “no you’'re not you dummy, you’re only 34.”

Do what? My meager math skills had failed me yet again.

I was indeed only about to turn 34.

That minor revelation was followed by a real display of excitement on my part. After weeks of dreading the big 3-5, I had suddenly gained back a year in a matter of seconds.

It was like being handed a new lease on life –- sort of. Oh, what I could do and accomplish with just one more year. The truth is that none of us are guaranteed the next 10 minutes.

It’'s a sobering thought, that our next breath may indeed be our last.
But it is one with which we must come to grips and push past. It reminded me once again to value each and every moment that we have on this rugged place we call Earth.

It reminded me to hug my wife just a little tighter and tell her how much I love her. It reminded me to take just a bit more time with my children, no matter what pressing newspaper business I might have needed to tend to at the time.

I thought about what I might leave behind, if I were to depart this world. Would my wife and kids be okay? Would I be missed? Would my time here have mattered?

Perhaps some would say it is unhealthy to dwell too long in such a place, but I found the experience to be cathartic. With all the mistakes I have made in these 34 years –(and there have been too many to count or comprehend) –there have been good things I have done as well.

There have been stories I have written that have touched and moved people in ways that only God-given words can. There have been deeds (however miniscule in the grand scheme of this life) which have brought smiles to people'’s faces.

I have faced death with the passing of so many friends and loved ones now gone, and been fortunate enough to have witnessed the beginning of life with the birth of my children. And with each shortcoming there have been equal triumphs.

With that I reached a conclusion of sorts.

If all I am meant to accomplish here is to be that husband and father, and to be the best writer and leader that I can be, and to encourage others at the opportune time when it is most needed, that will have been more than enough for me.

I will have completed my mission here in this world.

I hope, of course, that my story may have many more compelling and thrilling chapters yet to come. Perhaps I will cross off the list of goals things I never ever thought I could achieve.

There will most certainly be additional disappointments and failures.

We are human, after all. But the thought of just how finite this earthly existence is, –rather than bringing on a feeling of despair,– had exactly the opposite effect of encouraging me to spur on even when the hour may be bleak and desperate. I wanted to be a better man.

In all things, our faith teaches us, there is hope, and to this I will cling.

Which brought my thoughts full circle to the day at hand –- life at 34 was good.

And, in fact, it’'s better than it has ever been.