My life is good because I wish it to be so.

Today was my good friend Dédé's 50th birthday and it had been bothering him for some time that he would soon be arriving at that date. I don't understand why exactly but it is clearly some kind of dreaded watershed in his mind because he has been reminding me of it for about eighteen months now. However, he was happy enough today but that, I'm sure was enhanced by the copious amount of alcohol he imbibed.
It is a forty minute drive to my house from his, on little winding roads with no traffic save me. They pass through the beautiful Breton countryside, and it is a lovely spring day for one to enjoy all that there is. I again find myself thinking how lucky can I be, thank you Universe!
My life is good because I wish it to be so, because I appreciate the even the small things which come my way. It could be improved only by the addition of a girl whom I love and who loves me, but the lack of said girl doesn't make me sad or spoil my enjoyment of something which I perceive as beautiful.
I'm sure if I tried I could think of some negative things, to spoil that perception of perfection, but why would I want to do that? I could for example think how much older than my friend I am but that would be pointless, meaningless in fact. He may not live to be my age, many haven't, he may live to be older than I am now, but then so shall I and I am excited by all the things which can be learned and my friend is not.
So was I like that when a young man of fifty? No! I appreciated the things in my life then, as I do now, but did, sometimes, loose sight of just how lucky I was, and that, my friends, is how I come to be here, on this site.