Footsteps of time are silent. Years melt away with nary a whisper. And just like that the boy in you stares at middle age, often thinking of golden summers gone by. The memories come rushing back. You try and take stock of your life, only to find that you are rich in friends and have mostly lived without regrets. And am reminded of how lucky I am to still be still here, for technically my time was up a few years ago. Yet, somewhere in me lives the boy who is living to learn and is learning to live. I am happy that I am 48.