I am currently sitting in my niece's bedroom. All partied out. It's only 9:30 p.m!
The party rages on. It's my little brother's 50th birthday, a costume party, and everyone will continue for some time, and a few until the wee hours.
Being the oldest of four, I used to be the one that went until the wee hours. They straggled along behind. Now I'm the one done after, say four or five hours. When did this change? When did I throw in the party towel?
I guess it's part of growing up, while growing older, realizing a little is better than too much.
Better than growing older, without growing up, me thinks.
Now I'm like my Gram once was, I'm the cook, the one who cleans up, laughing and having a good time, but not needing to overdo, content with being in the background keeping things clean and moving.
One of our friends died last week. He was our age. His wife came home and found him. A lifetime of playing and working hard. At everything.
I feel content to let the party rage on without me tonight.