My Thoughts. . .
I can remember when I was in the third grade watching those who were in high school walk by. My thinking? I thought they were really old. Then, there was my mom and my grandparents. Mom was in her thirties and the grandparents were in their fifties. I thought they had one foot in the grave with the other on a banana peel! My mom died in 1995 at the age of 79. During that 49 years my perspective on age began to change.
I never had any serious health problems during my years. When I was young, I was diagnosed with Rheumatic Fever. Yet, it did not cause me any of the problems that went along with its name. My grandparents and parents died prior to their 80th birthday. I observed that birthday closer than the others. Yet, it passed, and I jumped from the 70s into the beginning of the 80s. Then a close friend announced with surprise, “I can’t believe you are 83.” I suddenly realized that it took effort to get down on my knees to retrieve something, and just as much effort to get back up. My right hand did steady my left one, but by itself it was shaky. Not good when trying to hit a target 10 yards away while shooting a pistol. But these were little announcements that I was entering that “old person’s” stage.
I believe my black hair began to morph on me during my sixties until it washed out all the black except for my black eyebrows. Even they are sprouting a number of white ones. I punish them by cropping them as much as possible. Forget the moustache and beard. Both of them are traitors!
The last trip to the dermatologist rewarded me with his announcement, “I see you have several skin tags.” Skin tags? I had more than I either wanted or needed! He recommended a 14-ounce bottle of medicated moisturizer that insurance will not share the cost on. It does help or the drugstore could keep it. I complained to my ophthalmologist about neck pain while at the computer screen. A few $20 bills solved that with new eyeglasses which made computer work enjoyable.
Mirrors begin lying to you. That cannot be me staring back at me. How did my grandfather, who has been dead since 1953, escape the grave to be looking at me? Why is it if a rain drip hits my arm, I develop a large red bruise there? Someone has slipped around and added extra weight to everything I used to pick up. I still have my hair, but it seems to have a mind of its own. It knows all the points of the compass and takes delight in pointing them out to me. Today is the 16th and I have said goodbye to 83. It still seems like yesterday when I was 8 years old and watching those high school students and thinking, “They must be really old!”
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