I started when I was 26. I made plans. I kept plans. I made more plans. I persist in making plans and have become adept at realizing them. They don’t make me money (in fact they often cost money), but they are satisfying. I make things, I agitate and cajole people, I improve myself (or whatever), I age with a conscious approach to the capacities of my new being. But I have held on to a plan now for about 10 years that I know I will have to reveal soon. It all depends on the life and liveliness of another person and they are old. Not even faded, just old. Ground. Grinding (at least that is the noise I hear when I hug them or wipe the counter or pull away out of the drive and wave at them).