I have heard all the adages about old age–more politely dubbed “twilight years.”
“Old age isn’t for sissies.”
“Just think how many new people you’ll meet every day when you lose your mind.”
Though some will beg to differ, I’ve not totally lost my mind yet. Except when I can’t find something or remember why I walked down a hallway. Sometimes, I fail to remember a name, an experience, or the author of a book. I save that recall for 3:00 AM, when I suddenly awake and have an “ah ha” moment.
My greatest challenges are creaking and rattling. Going upstairs is less noisy than coming down. I sound like a Halloween skeleton clanging and shaking my bones. Think Jacob Marley when he visits Scrooge dragging and rattling his chains. That’s me! I’m capable of waking a bear in hibernation.
Further, I have the usual aches and pains. I think they’re courtesy of the Lord to remind me I’m still alive. Certainly both my strength and agility ain’t what they used to be, which is why my cabana boy changes the ceiling light bulbs.
My days of bicycle riding have been reduced to a stationary machine. If you see me running, kill whatever is chasing me. My wheels now are simple driving cars, and yes, I can still see at night thanks to glasses. I fully understand there will come a time when I enter the progression: cane, to walker, to wheel chair, to gurney.
Today, I spread 30 cubic feet of garden soil and rototilled my garden. Tomorrow, I’ll rototill again and plant it. After I’ll do the Sunday NYT crossword, the laundry, and mop the kitchen floor. Maybe, I’ll even bake some cookies, and write the next chapter of my new novel. If and only if “dem bones rise again.”