A view of life by retired communications expert, Art Valenzuela

I KNOW that I only have a few liters of premium gas left in my tank, to go the remainder of my journey. Just a few precious liters, a few good years before my life comes to a complete stop. And there are no chances of a refill.

I am graying and I am aware of that, every minute of my conscious life. “I have kept the faith. I have gone through tough and better times. I have run the race.”

I have no more time for useless thoughts nor arguments. All I know is that I have “been there, done that.” All I want now is time to spend loving life itself and in full flower, appreciating the good people around me over the undesirable ones. Rewarding the good ones with well wishes and prayers. Of saying “thank you” more often than I should; of looking through a clear window sans the heavy dark tint that could obscure my perspective of a life that is winding down faster than I can rebuild it, or prolong it.

I want to “taste the blossoms while they still cling to the vine.” In a subliminal or realistic manner. Maybe, to finish the race with flair, that is — to put the needed exclamation points to two more personal projects that have been in the back burner of my life, hoping that the right opportunities would present themselves soon.

Yes, there are only a few good years left in me, a few gas of liters in my tank. Shall I step on the pedal at full throttle or tap on it little by little until the car comes to an end? Utterly finished.

There are just a few good years left in me. And I always have a sense of fulfilment looking back and reviewing the reels of my life in the past eight decades — of personal accomplishments and lessons learned. I look back at these decade by decade: The 1940s – birth and growing up. The 1950s – the teen years and crushes including the thrill of a first love and losing one’s virginity. And the decades went on and went by. Thank you Almighty One for those decades.

And today, even If I put all the remaining years together and multiply them exponentially, they cannot equal the fulfillment of my past life, in those past decades.

I am about to turn 82 and I still wish for a second wind that should take me to another decade despite the difficulties brought about by the so-called golden years of reaching age 80s or 90s. But, no. That is certainly wishful thinking. And I can feel the clock winding down, the gas tank reaching empty level.

All that I can think of now is putting more quality time to the remaining years. Waking up in the morning and praising God Almighty for the gift of another day even as I pray that I make it until the golden hours of eventide when purple shades paint hues of a colourful sunset to end another day.

And as I bed me down for a restful night, I ask myself: How many more liters do I have in my gasoline tank?

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