What kind of magic?

What kind of magic is this that finds me two months shy of my 62nd birthday ,more happy to be alive than at any time I remember in my past, my youth,my childhood. I know retirement from a job I disliked most of the time has something to do with it. I know the freedom to pursue art in a way that l always wanted to,makes me giddy;but it's more than that. Maybe it's just the realization that life could leave at any time now, the older I get, makes each day,each hour, each moment more precious than the last. Maybe it's looking back at the life l've lived, and realizing how much of it was good ,that makes me look forward to what is yet to come . Or not. The failure of a need to invest in a future,is deeply satisfying. The failure to care too much over what will happen to me is a tremendous relief . I spent so much of my past worrying about this or that, that I failed I'm sure to appreciate all the life that was swirling around me, each moment a  special occasion never to be returned,passing by unmarked and unnoticed , in my hurry to get to the next forgotten memory. I notice everything now: the extraordinary colors of the autumn leaves, the clouds that flit across the sky, backlit by the sun ,the names of streets and towns and children,the feel of all different types of paper in my hands,the glorious color of paints,waves beaches sand dunes ,mountains, smiles and sneers,joy and misery. There is so much in the world to devour

with our senses -art and music and nature and humanity and books,books books, not to mention the incredible feats made possible by computers,(which I will never understand as I go to my grave). I feel a kind of contentment, which will surely be disrupted by some misfortune,or tragedy in the near future; but just for this one and only moment,acquired after years of wanting to die,I am in this moment happy to be alive.