Bokelskere.no

The charms of life are manifold, even for an eighty-six-year-old like me. If you will excuse my lecturing, I will expand a little: Yes, life brings pain and problems in droves (“battalions,” as Hamlet would say), but also, sometimes when you are on the very point of giving up, it delivers absolute delight. There may be surprises in the form of a grandson you suddenly discover you love, a group of scientists who care so much more than you thought, a girl who takes the trouble to understand. There may be revelations brought to you by a mass of stumpy, squalling birds. There may be new hope suddenly sprouting up in a heart that was convinced all humanity was bad, a heart that had grown sick of the world.
Life can be generous. It can heal the heart and whisper that it’s always possible to start again, never too late to make a difference. It asserts that there are many, many things worth living for. And one of those things—one of the most unexpectedly joyful things of all—is penguins.