The big 70 keeps coming; I’m running as fast as I can, which isn’t saying much; I can’t run fast enough. 5 more days until I’m officially in my seventies. How the heck did I get here? As I patch up the parts that are falling off, dragging behind, or just plain missing, like my memory.
My leg hurt this morning; that stubborn varicose vein is trying to make a comeback after I had it removed last month. So I had to pull on the compression sock. Yuk, not a pretty sight. I hobble to the kitchen to make my first cup of coffee. Taz followed me, occasionally stepping on my feet to test my balance and reflexes. The Beatles song “Will You Still Need Me? Will You Still Feed Me When I’m 64?” was playing in my head. The Keurig came to life, offering comfort and bliss, if only for a moment. This moment is all we have, after all. The funny thing is, it feels like just yesterday I was learning to tie my shoe, my grandfather yelling at me to get it done, and my brother trying to help me. Tears streaming down my face. I walk barefoot in the house, and I wear shoes with bare soles for balance now. My body is succumbing to the waves and bobs of old age, and my medications are making me dizzy.
I’m in shock every time I see a picture of the old movie stars and rock-and-rollers from my time. I saw a picture of Mick Jagger in shorts the other day. I can’t unsee it! He’s in his 80s now.
With age comes wisdom; I’m waiting here—where are you, wisdom?
I’m not even trying to keep up with the news these days; I just shake my head and put on a serial-killer murder mystery to relax.
Seriously, I’m in pretty good shape for 70. I’ve had an adventure-filled life, weathered the rough patches, and somehow kept rising. Writing and traveling are my new adventures, and living in the moment is my motto. I’m not making any long-term plans. To celebrate this milestone, my friend gave me an early birthday present: a trip to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. How wonderful is that?
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