Dear 65,

I'm sorry I've treated you with so little respect. You had so much to offer and I just took you for granted. I should have appreciated how lucky I was to have you. Instead, I belittled you and embarrassed you, just to make a joke. I called you my Medicare Year, as if that were all you meant to me. Now, as I approach 66, I realize what a gift you are. 

We have so little time now, but I’ll treat you well for the few hours we have left together. And, hey, I hope it’s not bad luck to say this a wee bit ahead of time, but thank you for carrying me all the way to 66. I truly appreciate it. I only hope 66 will be as kind to me as you were. At least as kind to me as you were for most of the year, mother fucker.