Isn’t the ability to look back a wonderful gift? I turned 65 while in New York, and the sense of a life lived has been upon me. We cannot know what lies ahead, but we can (mostly) remember from whence we’ve come. The sketchbook is my doorway, rich with memory, at least for these past 8 years.
I told Greg recently, if I get so old I don’t remember, just pile my sketchbooks nearby. That should do me just fine.