Older by Pamela Redmond SatranMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
I finished reading this book on Thursday, February 12, 2026 at 5:51 p.m. My last reading session was 135 minutes. I didn't like it throughout, but it grew on me towards the end.
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“I leaned back on the hard plastic seat and shut my eyes. The word now kept echoing in my brain. The time to do anything is now.
There was something undeniably comfortable for me, I realized, in not doing what I really wanted to do. As long as I was mired in doing something I didn't want to do, my dissatisfaction was justified and my dreams stayed safely on the shelf. Nothing was put to the test. I wasn't failing, I wasn't succeeding, I wasn't even really waiting, because waiting implied something else you were moving toward. I was living as a hologram of myself, my energy and passion in suspension until that day, that faraway day that never seemed to come, when I'd finally be doing what I really wanted. Never making myself find out what that was.
Denying the reality, year after year after year, that all I had was now” (179).
“I'd turned thirty, putting off my real adult life until some point in the future. I'd turned forty, waiting for the future. I could easily turn fifty doing the same thing. And fifty-five and sixty and seventy, waiting and waiting and waiting until it was too late. I wanted to keep waiting and never acting. Because it was less painful than trying my hardest and still not getting what I wanted” (180).
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