Each year at this time I begin to remember and think of what I was doing and where I was. Each year I add another number to the count of the years. Each year I wonder where the time has gone. Tomorrow is my oldest daughter’s birthday. I don’t mind my own birthday, but, hers gets to me yearly.
Yes, I have two daughters, but until recently the only birthday that bothered me was my oldest daughter’s birthday. Now, that her sister has made it to her mid-thirties, I begin to feel older in September also.
I can remember talking to my Dad on my birthday. He would ask, “How old are you now?” I always thought that was a bizarre question, I mean, how could you not remember how old your child was? I am beginning to think it was self-preservation that he asked that question. I think he was most likely hoping I would give a lower number, which I never did, because, as I mentioned previously, my birthday never seems to really bother me. So, I would proudly announce my age and his response is one that I have become very familiar with, “How did you get to be that old and I really don’t think I am old enough to have a daughter your age.” I guess with age comes wisdom. I feel that same way.
Today as I was going through my Facebook page, I started to read the responses on a friend’s post. As usual there was a secondary conversation that was between my friend and a friend of hers that I do not know. The conversation went like this, (friend 1) “How is your Mom?” (friend I don’t know) “She is good. 64 now and healthy.”
I swallowed hard. This comment made it sound like at 64 the woman should be in a home for the infirm and aged. This, on top of my oldest approaching what could be a milestone year as she hits a big year next year (sorry Sweetie), made me start to look for my walker, a cane or my bed pan. Or all three of them.
It truly is amazing that I have my facilities to actually write this out and think coherently. Age, in wine, cheese and Sean Connery it is a wonderful and delightful thing, each year making it better than before.
So, I will continue to think on this. This business with age, and numbers and gray hair and arthritic hands. This business of growing older.
I close with this quote I found.
Never use the passing years as an excuse for old age. ~Robert Brault
Thanks for stopping by today. I appreciate your visit. Oh, and to my dear daughter, Thank you for the years of laughter and tears and worry and joy. May #%* be the best year yet for you! Cathi (DAF)