A sad fact, of course, about adult life is that you see the very
things you'll never adapt to coming toward you on the horizon. You see
them as the problems they are, you worry like hell about them, you make
provisions, take precautions, fashion adjustments; you tell yourself
you'll have to change your way of doing things. Only you don't. You
can't. Somehow it's already too late. And maybe it's even worse than
that: maybe the thing you see coming from far away is not the real
thing, the thing that scares you, but its aftermath. And what you've
feared will happen has already taken place. This is similar in spirit to
the realization that all the great new advances of medical science will
have no benefit for us at all, thought we cheer them on, hope a vaccine
might be ready in time, think things could still get better. Only it's
too late there too. And in that very way our life gets over before we
know it. We miss it. And like the poet said: The ways we miss our lives
are life.
―
Richard Ford, Independence Day
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