Mum doesn't remember many things. If I'm lucky, some days she might remember my name.

She looked at me this morning and said "Once you were a little boy, but now you're grown up. The time went so quickly."

Then she added, "When you start out, life is nice. Then it gets hard. And now... it's beautiful."

I was surprised and asked "why is it beautiful?"

She said "Because I have this beautiful man, and I have so many people who love me. It's just beautiful!"

I was gobsmacked. How can someone who has lost large parts of her cognitive ability still have such a large ocean of meaning in her life?

I teared up. So did Dad. I know Mum has lived a good life because even though she has lost a lot, and has been through a lot, what remains is simply... love.

We're so fortunate to have her in our lives.

 'Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good.'

-- Marcus Aurelius

"Travail" is painful labour, as with childbirth and anything worthwhile. This is a sonnet about Travail.

For my Australian friends with an ear to hear, it is about more than that.

This is Kev and Kath. I met them at the top of Bald Rock, almost 1,300 metres above sea level, in Bald Rock National Park, NSW.

Kev is 68 years old and has been retired for 3 years. When he said "I didn't retire until I was 65", I detected a slight note of regret that he didn't retire earlier.

Kath is 64 years old, and like Kev, is happy and thriving.

They had walked to the top via the steep "Rock Face Track" which just goes straight up. It's not an easy climb. I was out of breath by the time I reached the top.

I told them both how happy I was to see people older than me flourishing and enjoying the world.

You meet some amazing people when you're out having fun.

#HumansOfMoretonBay

Linda is 79 years old and lives in Rothwell.

She injured her knee while hiking in Kings Canyon (N.T.), but instead of using a walking stick to get around, she uses a hiking pole.

She used to walk through the bush in the swampy wetlands south of where the Redcliffe Railway line is now, but doesn't feel confident enough any more because she feels intimidated by some of the kids that hang around in the shadows by the underpass.

She's from Glenlivet in Bannfshire, Scotland. Her father, Peter Brown worked in the local Distillery for Captain Bill Smith Grant.

I sang her a few lines of "Peggy Gordon" in a Glasgow Accent to verify my ancestral credentials.

But I had one burning question for her:

"Are you happy?"

"Oh yes," she answered in her soft highland accent. "I can't go to as many places as I used to, but I am very happy."