Seventy-five: More than it being the digits that scream seasoned and being on this planet for more than seven decades and five summers, this is the most opportune time to be grateful.

This feeling stems from the fact that, by that time, I would still be alive and kicking ass, and a true survivor of personal and domestic battles, health crises, financial boom and gloom, the political landscape, leaders of this so-called democracy — the golden ones and greedy lot, imploding economies and falling regimes, the see-sawing peso, perhaps another pandemic, plus earthquakes, coup d'etats, volcanic eruptions, super typhoons, drought, famine, pestilence, wars, and also digital technology, creativity, the evolving arts and many more.

Good old times

Hitting 75 will make me more nostalgic of the good old times, when life was simpler and one had that drive and hunger to realize one's dreams. It will make me long for friends and colleagues who have been gone to soon, felled by affliction or shocking tragedy, thus allowing me to appreciate lasting friendships and loyalties that are still with me.

I will smile as I recollect the follies of my youth, the trials and triumphs of my adult life and, as they say in a song, "ang mga nakalipas na di na maaari at pwedeng balikan."

These feelings, of course, also bring some pangs of pain. But I get to appreciate all my experiences, good or bad, happy or sad, because I am what I am by then because of them.

Seventy-five means being surrounded by loved ones — my partner, children, grandchildren, up to the apo sa tuhod and talampakan. The successes of my loved ones are also my success. Their pains I likewise carry, though I do not let them know about it.