Countdown

Today is Friday, tomorrow another weekend begins. A fantastic and sunny one...? I wished.
It will come and then the time will be flying, faster and faster every hour... Today is the 13035th day of my life. It means that there have been exactly 1862 weekends already. Well, if I exclude the first 10 years, which were quite happy but - let's say - not mature enough to catch on life, then the 1310 weekends remain... 1310 Saturdays and 1310 Sundays. This is a big number, really... However, the more I think about it, the more anxious I feel.
How many of those days did I honestly enjoy? How many times did I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face? Did I appreciate the days despite of bad weather or adversities of fortune? What did I actually do during those thousands of hours free of work or other duties? Where are they now? Why am I still without my star within grasp?
I am not sure if I want to know answers to these questions, maybe it is better to leave them as they are, keep them closed in the past, let them vanish into thin air...
Instead of looking back though, I can look ahead, but then... another, even bigger challenge appears. Assuming that I will survive the next 13035 Earth's rotations and so - there will be 1862 weekends more, including the one which starts tomorrow... Will they be similar to those which have already passed? Is this inevitable or am I able to change it somehow? Shall I be more happy, more creative, more helpful? How will I use my time? Will I do anything useful, beautiful, important? What would be important enough? Shall I look for a solid ground in the abyss of doubts? Shall I turn a river? Shall I move a mountain? Well, will I notice these days at all? I do not know. However, there is one thing I am quite sure about the 1862 weekends. It is a finite number.