Soon I will celebrate my 72nd birthday. That’s a little too old to pretend I’m not aging. And actually, there is much about aging I don’t mind at all. The worst part for me is watching the years just vanish. I know, I know, time compresses for us all as we age. It’s one thing to know it; another entirely to experience it.
I’ve once again become conscious of my weight. A visit with Lois usually accomplishes that for me! After our visit on the east coast, I looked around our seniors-only park and really noticed the weights of people. The light bulb went on: it’s easy to feel thin when surrounded by people who weigh 50-100 pounds more than you. My weight has slowly crept up, and I’ve been slow to notice. Well, I’m noticing now, so maybe I’ll get some semblance of control again.
Many people tell me I’m aging well, by which they mean I don’t look as old as I am. Sometimes the mirror I peer in says, ‘yup, it’s true.’ Too often, however, it disagrees. Eye of the beholder, right? I do have a sort of philosophy for aging: keep you hair fluffy; your cheeks rosy; and your attitude positive. Makes me feel better and fools a lot of people.
Being retired means being able to choose activities simply because one likes them. The hard part, too often, is getting motivated to move out of the chair, away from the book, and engage with people. I’m always glad when I do, so that’s number one on my priority list: keep moving.
It’s hard not to think of death and dying when all around you people are doing that. In a senior park, I’ve learned, it’s not unusual to have a couple of deaths a month. And then there’re all the grim diagnoses. Yikes; who’s next? So I keep walking and exercising and doing what I can to stave off the inevitable. I’m so not ready yet. As the old song says, “I’ve got a lot of living to do.” You too, I hope.
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