I took the train down to NYC this morning, and in my car was a group of 6 or 7 happily rowdy 60ish yo women, clearly taking a weekend away from their everyday lives. Over the course of the ride, they were extremely gregarious and chatty, and every few minutes, one of them would exclaim over how happy she was or how much she was already enjoying the weekend. Even when one of them lost her ticket, the conductor got in on the jolly act and there wasn't a bit of stress about it, so far as I could tell. (The ticket was eventually found.) Several times over the course of the ride, I thought to myself that I hope I'm still enjoying my life and my friends as much as these women when I reach their age.
As we disembarked at Penn Station, one of the women turned to me and apologized if they'd been a pain to have in the same car. I demurred, explaining how much I'd enjoyed their presence. She explained that they had all missed their 40th college reunion in the spring, and so they'd organized a special weekend this fall instead. I told her that I and my friends were doing the same, but for our 10th. "Well!" she said, delighted, "In 30 years, you can do it again and think of us!"
I certainly hope so.