Stay out of the sun, they said. It causes wrinkles. Protect your skin. But tropical beaches beckoned, and I stretched on warm sands soaking in radiance, not caring about a distant future I may not survive to see.
“The single engine Cessna crashed in the mountains surrounding Oaxaca. The pilot and passenger were killed instantly.”
“A motorbike skidded off the cliff on Mount Batur. Neither driver nor passenger survived.”
“A woman walking the blind curves on the Amalfi coast highway was hit and killed by a speeding car.”
None of that happened. It could have because I was the passenger in both scenarios, and I was the woman walking. But the plane didn’t crash. The motorbike didn’t skid. And the car didn’t even come close.
Instead, I survived to grow wrinkles with memories of a life lived to the brim, adventures, risks, and wondrous moments of sheer magic because the exciting present was far more important to me than an unknown future.
Had I avoided Waikiki beach, the intercontinental flights in that small plane, the exhilarating motorbike rides through the mountains of Bali, and the enchantment of the Amalfi coast, what would I have now?
Wrinkles, because they would have come with age whether I’d lived my wild or not. And what are wrinkles without memories to accompany them?
Just wrinkles.
However, my advice to my daughters:
●Wear sunscreen.
●Avoid tropical beaches.
●Fly only in large commercial aircraft.
●Don’t ever get on the back of a motorbike,
and…
●In Praiano on the Amalfi coast, stick to the stairs!
writing for self-discovery 
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