During my recent dental visit, the hygienist expressed concern about one of my teeth but indicated that it did not pose an urgent problem. “My guess is it will last you another forty years,” she said with a smile.

Without much conscious thought on the subject, I replied, “I don’t imagine I’ll be needing it that long.” The two young women attending me looked uncomfortable and changed the subject. I thought I might have a delayed reaction to my matter-of-fact thoughts about my own mortality, but I’ve yet to feel so much as a twinge.

Sitting in the back yard that I love so much and looking at the fireweed as it nears the top of what I like to call its summer ladder, I find myself musing on this topic some more. I recently put in application to start bringing some social security benefits into my family, so maybe that delayed reaction is starting to rumble just a bit. That, and the fireweed has almost reached the part where it takes to the air.

So naturally, as one does, I started thinking about Harry Potter, and the words of Albus Dumbledore. Young Harry was fretting at the idea of the impending passing of some elderly friends, and wise old Dumbledore said this:

“. . .to Nicolas and Perenelle, [dying] is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is merely the next great adventure.” I wonder, can I really and truly espouse this way of thinking, without depression, without nightmares?

Maybe. But either way, the analogy of a fortunate life as a long, adventurous day seems sound to me. I could almost see it as if I just got home from school and have the afternoon and evening for exploring. In this scenario, I plan to stay up late.