Three hundred and sixty-five days is just a year

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was writing my last few stories from the Olympic press center in Sestriere, Italy. I was hours away from picking my wife up at the airport in Torino and escaping into the Italian countryside for a much-needed vacation.
I was in Italy for 34 days.
The last 14 were probably the best 14 days I've spent on this planet.
With someone I thought I knew and loved, 24 hours a day, 14 days straight.
I look back today not to dwell on the sins of the past (hers and mine), but to remind myself how fragile this life is.
And to live every day like it matters.
Because it does.
A year ago, I couldn't see the cracks in the dam, the gathering storm that is my life (and on the peripheral of my life). The churn has been simply amazing, a lot to take in in just 365 days.
But it is life. And it is unpredictable.
It'll be interesting in a year to post what the next 365 days look like.
Again, not to dwell on the past.
But to see where you've been - and look to the future.

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