MY TIME — AND I’M LAUGHING

Origin

Everyone shares one day.
Not holidays, not weekdays. Instead, it is the main celebration of existence: the birthday.

However, the official birthdate often does not match the real one.

Years ago, procedures were different. There was no obsession with immediate registration. Parents informed the authorities when they remembered, or sometimes when the wife insisted. As a result, the dates entered into records often lived more in memory than in facts.

In other words, they were recollections. Not always precise moments.

A Different Time

Back then something even funnier could happen.

The town butcher might verify the baby’s weight, simply because he was the only one who owned a scale. After checking the newborn’s kilos, he would look at the mother and repeat the same joke every time:

“Lady, it is 5.8 kg. What do I do, leave it, or cut it?”

Hahahahaha.

Today’s Celebration

Today, however, was my celebration.

Sixty-one years. Well, carried — according to social media, according to AIs, according to family, according to those who absolutely loved me (very few).

Yet the most interesting reactions came from those who hated me, envied me, or used the usual stock phrases.

I read between their words.
Meanwhile, I weighed their souls.

For many people, this period of my life was never expected. In fact, I was always considered a gambler.

Only one person knew the best was still ahead.

Me.

The Agreement

Behind everything there was an agreement.

It happened in June 2025 inside a church in Lisbon. The witness was Madonna. The understanding was simple: my time would end at ninety-three years.

Therefore, thirty-two years of window remain.

Thirty-two celebrations to use well.

What a life… Ahahahah.

The Hardest Part

Success was never the hardest part.
Neither health nor numbers.

Instead, the real difficulty lies somewhere else.

The hardest moment in life is facing the passing of the people you love the most.

That is when the real man inside each of us is measured.

A Clear Direction

My timing is set.
Planning already exists.

Wealth has never been my goal.
Neither success nor recognition.

What truly stimulates me is something simpler: not being forgotten.

And with a generational plan, that objective will be reached.

Everything begins with fifty-three books and a form of literature without equal: cognitive autobiographical narrative.

No one had thought of it before.
No one. Truly no one.

I am the first.

However, never the number one.

A Personal Inventory

This morning, I looked at myself in the mirror. Then I took stock of the last year.

61 years
6.3 ft
180 lbs.

No health problems.
No eating problems.
No money problems.

Seventy dollars a month is enough for everything.

This is not gambling. Instead, it is the result of a simple ability: not searching for solutions to problems but searching for opportunities to do better.

Messages

Birthday wishes arrived through WhatsApp.

My reply was identical to everyone:

“Thanks a lot, well received. However, let me tell you something in truth: you will have to plan another thirty-two celebrations before I begin walking the road that leads to my father. And I still do not know in which bracket He will place me.”

A Final Thought

However, a birthday is never only a number. It is also a measure of direction.

Over time, every year becomes a small verification of what remains and what changes. Therefore, celebration is not simply memory. Instead, it becomes orientation.

Meanwhile life continues to move forward. Experiences accumulate, projects evolve, and intentions slowly take form.

Because of this, a birthday can also mark a point of recalibration.

In the end, what matters is not the count of years. Rather, it is the continuity of purpose.

And if the direction remains clear, every new celebration becomes another confirmation that the journey is still unfolding.

Closing

Have a great Sunday, everyone.

Nando

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