I just finished Elena Ferrante's "Neapolitan Novels" and am grappling with this idea of time and the aging process.

Some themes that I find peculiar are:

• Those pesky things our parents told us in adolescents, which we often absentmindedly or hotheadedly disregarded, make much more sense as an adult. And, sometimes, we don't get the chance to share our revelations with them.
• The things we wanted to dissociate from/ we found disgusting as youths are things we may cling to for comfort as an adult. (Be that as it may, sometimes the things they say are atrocious, which makes one think, what atrocious things am I saying now?).
• Sometimes the things we fear are inevitable.
• Things we said and our attitude towards our parents were harsh. As we grow older and become the receiver of such harshness, we grow to have compassion for them (possibly after they have passed) and wish we were kinder to them.
• Quarrels between friends and family members seem so important at the time of the incident, however, as space and time grow, those quarrels fall to the backdrop. Human connection is craved and desired more as we age. This makes me feel that grudges are so wasteful (although I am guilty of holding them and am holding them currently - That's an internal battle I am fighting).

There's more I can say about this, but I should hold back from rambling. So, what do you think of when you think of time and/or the aging process?

It feels so strange. I am right here in time. Not in the past, when I screwed up some stuff. Not in the future when I'll be living somehow, whether like a good adult or somehow else. It just feels strange to be so aware of it. So aware of the moment, of the fact that I am currently typing stuff into a textbox on a website, hoping someone else relates to this feeling.