75 yeats, that's all most of us get if we're lucky. 75 summers to feel the sun kiss your skin, 75 monsoons to dance in the rain, 75 winters to wrap yourself in warmth and quiet. When you think about it, it's not a lot. Time slips like sand through open fingers, you blink and another season is gone. So why keep waiting? Why keep saying "someday" when the clock is already running? Go after what tues at your heart. Say what you've been holding back. Tell people you love them before your or their voice becomes a memory Stop overthinking every step, life was never meant to be a perfect plan, it's meant to be lived, stumbled through, felt deeply. The people who left yesterday had dreams pinned to today's sunrise, but not everyone gets to wake up again. So do the things that scare you, chase what excites you, laugh even when life feels heavy. The right time isn't coming, it's already here, disguised as now. Leave the rest to the universe, it's always listening, always rearranging pieces in your favor. Just keep moving, keep believing, keep living before your 75 summers turn into stories someone else tells.