I’m sitting here tonight icing my knee – an old injury has come back to haunt. I hate it when this happens, I feel so damned old. I’d like to tell you that I ran a marathon today, but alas, I did not – I went to the beach this afternoon, made the trek on the gravel path up and over the train tracks with my little girls and now I’m paying a price. They say aging isn’t for sissies and they aren’t kidding.
There are a few things that improve with age; wine, cheese, Sean Connery and Maggie Smith. The rest of us are pre-programmed to poop out.
It’s a bit of a surprise to find myself coping with this time of life – it sort of snuck up on me. I’m a little taken back when a young person offers me their seat on public transit, or when a helpful cashier plucks a coin from my handful of change to hasten a transaction. I must look more elderly than I feel.
In my wildest, youthful, dreams I never pictured myself here, I was destined for far greater things. Maybe not red carpets and moonwalks, but certainly something more exciting than sitting here with an ice pack on my knee.
But even here there are blessings to be counted. I’ve changed over the years, and not just in the physical sense. I have grown, mellowed and revamped my priorities. I’ve sort of become….
I’m less concerned what other people think. It’s not that I don’t care what people think – I’ve learned I can’t control it. I have a hard enough time living up to my own expectations let alone those of others.
I’ve also learned to not worry so much about how my house looks — a house is where you hang your hat, home is how you feel when you do it. My home is cluttered – filled to the brim with the stuff of my life. The refrigerator door is littered with colorful drawings, the French doors smeared with smallish handprints. It’s new age art in my books – those fingerprints are unique, those drawings original. I understand that art is subjective. I will ditch the housework in favor of a coloring date any day. I’m a graduate of the school of “If the drawer will close — that’s where it goes”. If someone is concerned about what’s behind my cupboard doors then they aren’t appreciating the masterpieces in the center of the room.
Life has become too short to worry about things I can’t control. I’ve come to a place where my ‘best’ has to be good enough. To a place where it’s important to bring that ‘best’ everyday. I’m focused on the impression I’m leaving, the example I’m setting and the memories I’m creating. And those things are worth the ice pack on my knee tonight.
Comments (1)
So, Elva, maybe your house is looking more like mine, but not as bad. I’ve always felt like you’re feeling now. My father used to say, when my mother fussed about the house when company was coming “They haven’t come to look at the house. They’ve come to see us. If they don’t like us the way we are, they don’t need to come again.” I like to think I take after my Dad more than my mother.