Zoom Zoom

“Don’t quit walking,” my elderly neighbor warns. “If you stop, you may never get going again.” He continues down the road, little dog on leash, good walking shoes, sweats. Always on the move. He’s right, I know. After all, I’m not getting any younger, so I’m doing everything possible to enter old age in good shape. Great shape. Exceptional shape! I insist to myself as I power walk up the hill. Faster, faster! I’m out-walking age!

I’m always stating that although I’m sixty four year old, I don’t feel old. As though there is some special feeling that age brings instead of just being myself but older. As though everyone else doesn’t feel the same way I do. We’re all just a bunch of kids wrapped up in this thing called a body that merely takes us through life like a car. We all stared out as hot little race cars, then became minivans or station wagons, now we’re some sort of four door sedan. I mean it’s not bad to be a four door sedan. It’s respectable. Yet deep inside there’s that longing to still be driving around in the hot little race car; zipping in and out of life, forcing ourselves to slow down for nothing more than an occasional pit-stop. Refuel. Hydrate. New tires. And on we go.

Yet, accepting were I am now, in my slightly used, yet shiny sedan, is good. There are some things very good about being my age. I’m more comfortable with myself, more myself, than I’ve ever been. I don’t need everyone to like me or agree with me or be my friend. It’s freeing to be authentically me. I allow myself to occasionally eat deserts and carry a few extra pounds. It helps fill out the wrinkles, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Once in a while though, I can’t keep from peering way down the road and around the next bend. Sometime’s it leads into some sort of “facility.” Oh, no! I don’t want to look. All I can say is if everyone were to accept that we all will be old and infirm one day, we would be lobbying for fabulous pay and exceptional working conditions for those who’s jobs are caring for the elderly. Time for a big sigh.

Keep walking my fellow ageing friends. It keeps the batteries charged and the engine running.

Later,

Mary Ann