When I was a child, I had the notion that it would be cool to be older. You know drive, have a job, have a husband, have kids, and drink. Not that I ever did a lot of drinking while I was growing up. As I grew up, I noticed a lot of drinking going on around me so around age 18 I decided to try it. (I was out of high school but not of age). Big surprise, I liked it. I was funnier, more witty, and best of all less shy. We all want to be older than we are when we are young. You can’t wait to grow up.
Fast forward (and I do mean fast) 40 years and it’s not quite what I envisioned. I am now a card carrying member of Medicare as of April1. Somehow this is not how I thought my later life would be. First of all my dreams of retirement included my husband Sam who is nowhere to be found except in my heart. Arthritis which flared up during Sam’s illness is only getting worse, so I cannot wear any of my beautiful rings he bought me. They say 60 is the new 40, but I don’t think they told the men I have an interest in about that little factoid.
Some compare getting older to a fine bottle of wine. The more it ages, the better it gets. You’re not getting older you’re getting better. I’ve got a million of them. I exercise regularly, eat pretty well, still trying to cut down on the alcohol, but I am here to tell you, no matter how hard you try, it pretty much just takes over. Yes you can have a face lift, but the minute they see your hands, it is over. You can apply all the face cream on earth, but eventually there is nothing that can be done to fade the dark circles under the eyes or brown spots all over your body. I can hear my Mom now telling me to get out of the sun, it will age me quicker. She told me, I ignored her.
I am sitting here, aging like a piece of cheese. And speaking of cheese the next person who moves mine is in serious trouble. Thinking I have done a marvelous job of adjusting to life events, some of my own making, I am just plain tired. Tired of feeling the same way I did at 40, but having the mirror tell a completely different story. Tired of the 30 somethings and their opinion of old people being anyone over age 60 or God forbid, has platinum hair.
What I am really trying to say is that 65 has come all too fast, and I know that I have less time ahead than behind me. It is scary, but it is my intention to make the most of those all too fleeting years and try to make a difference as I live each day to its fullest. Too bad it took me 65 years to grow up.