I woke up and there it was, surprising me in my tracks.---the age that bothered me. Never before had I understood when others bemoaned an age. Gosh, aren't you just as old as you think you are, or wait, is it you are as old as you feel?
Well, there I was pulling back the covers, slipping out of bed, creaking to the bathroom on angry, stiff ankles way too early that cold morning two days before my 55th birthday.
No, it wasn't because I'm a go-getter and enjoy rising before the sun at 4:15; it was because nature called--- for the second time that early morning, I might add. (I guess I drank too much, too late. Am I reverting to the toddler stage?) I hope that saying is wrong that you're as old as you feel.
With an exasperated, "Oh, why?" floating through my brain, I smushed my face back into my pillow for a second before rising. I wanted to deny that urgent need, but if I hoped for a shot at more sleep, I knew I needed to tackle this stumble in the dark.
I blamed this turning 55 as the culprit, and I don't like it one bit. How could life have sped up enough for me to reach 55, the highway speed limit I first remember going 40 years ago while learning to drive? No one let me go over it then. My easy cruise control setting has been canceled, and I want to take a moment to move right into the slow lane, breaking to look in my rear view mirror.
Frankly, here's what I see. I've been blessed beyond measure these 55 years.
But can I still moan and groan for just this moment, please? I've collected some extra unwanted saggy body baggage, even though I've tried to rid myself of it ( Yikes, is age really just a number? I hope it's not this number.)
Pictures are not as fun anymore. I've seen a lot of posers lately on my travels, but no amount of posing is going to hide some things. My daughter has given me some tips about the angle of the camera, but I see every wrinkle line surrounding my lips. If you don't, then we both know you're lying. My husband says they are "cute." (Hmmm... I think my right response is supposed to be, "Thank you, dear.")
Physical pains have sneaked into my blindspots, taking rotating turns to let me know they will be sitting shotgun for the duration of my ride: feet, wrist, back.... (Once again--please say it isn't so that you're only as old as you feel.)
My brain still perseveres to do things that my body groans about. I willed myself to hike twelve miles into the mountains, followed by ten the next day, but my back and legs were demanding I scale it down on the third day.
And at the weirdest moments, crazy brain fog blurs my vision. Heck, today I couldn't think of the word coaster. Really, the word coaster! And wait, can you tell me why I just walked into the other room? I mean I can tell you my phone number and addresses from childhood but heck if I know the exact title or author of that book I just finished raving about. (Oh no, please do not say, "You're only as old as you think you are" because I'm not even sure I'm thinking all that well.) Let's just say there are a lot of squirrels running around distracting my thoughts. Squirrel---anyone seen my phone? Oh nevermind, it's right here in my hand.
Again, I know I've been blessed beyond measure these 55 years.
I hear ya, " Every day is a gift from God. Don't complain. You're still young. You have great years ahead. You still have your faculties and body." I totally agree with you. I'll be okay. I'm tackling this stumble through the dark thoughts of aging. I'll rev back up to speed down the fast lane toward 70mph, but right now 55 has me slowing down to look at life through a new lens.
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