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How does it feel being old?
The other day a young girl asked me how it felt being old.
I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know. Old Age, I have decided, must be a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the rolls, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am in shock by that older person that I see in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long. I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I believe I have become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly flower arrangement that I didn't need, but looks so great on my piano. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's and 80's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love , I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and I will dive into the waves like I did as a teenager if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get older. I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. I do though, eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose someone you love, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect. I am so blessed to be living long enough to have my hair turning gray (even though I color it), and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. As I get older, I see it is easier to be more positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong. So, to answer her question, I think I like getting older. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it) Peggy |
I still would not mind the flatter stomach :wink:
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What a beautiful sentiment Peggy.
I wish I had not taken so long to learn some of what you have written! I remember as a teen, asking my grandfather "Poppa" if he was afraid of dying. (Did that shock him?) He answered me that no, he had Faith, and so felt assured he would go into the hands of God... I am 47 now, but for YEARS I have been taking the younger set out for lunch when I worked and sharing any wisdom I could - and answering their questions on what it was like being "old." The only thing that ever hurt me was a receptionist who asked, "don't you have any friends your own age?" I had an immediate shock of offense, and said, "of course - don't you realize I do this because I care about you younger guys?" That showed my own immaturity and ego there... Anyways, great post. My mom sure could use it - she criticizes EVERYTHING I do, and darn it, so what if I do shop at the specialty meat store instead of the cheap store...I'm worth it now, right? |
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