Two of the nice things about getting older (there are myriad negatives that could equally be cited) are these:
1. The fear of death dwindles. Not that it disappears or that anyone might not still be quite afraid, but the preceding and long-standing and unspoken notion that "I will not die -- dying is for people in graveyards" dissipates. At first, this can be spooky, but then, perhaps, the spookiness is slowly accompanied by a small almost-pleasure, as if it was quite nice to be part of an actual-factual flow...not to mention all the negatives that could be dispensed with.
2. The willingness to believe my own opinions and judgments loses its savor. Where once life was filled with the Miracle Glue of strong beliefs, opinions, and judgments that showed off who I was (in the same way a peacock can fan his tail feathers), now what was a miraculous glue begins to unbind. Aside from anything else, opinions and judgments require too much energy.
Maybe it's just having been around long enough to see righteousness devolve or wretchedness be uplifted, but what was once strong tea seems to become weak. When someone speaks of the wrath of God, all you can wonder is, why in heaven's name is He so pissed off?
It's sort of disconcerting, being unable to find a home in some soaring or reeking realm. Oh for a good wrathful, righteous toot! Oh for a melting away in some blissful bayou. Anything to make the blood grow hot and assured and self-confident without remorse or second thought. Occasionally it comes calling, that firebrand certainty, but the occasions become fewer and less credible. Now it's just do-what-you-do-because you-do-it or think-what-you-think-because-you-think-it.
Old age. One thing's for sure -- we ain't in Kansas any more.