One's Own Generation:
As time goes by, one starts picking them out in crowds. There aren't as many of them around as there used to be. More likely than not, one doesn't say anything, and neither do they, but something seems to pass between the two of you anyway. They have come from the same beginning. They have seen the same sights along the way. They are bound for the same end and will get there about the same time that I do. There are some who by the looks of them I wouldn't choose to invite home for dinner on a bet, but they are my compatriots of the voyage. I wish them well.
I suppose I could think it sad to think that it has taken me so many years to reach so obvious a conclusion.
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