So it’s that time of year again…that time where I get older…and supposedly wiser. It happens to all of us, and I guess that’s why I don’t feel so bad, because we’re all in the boat together…sinking as it may be…we’re together!
If I had to guess, I’d bet you aren’t so thrilled with that whole aging process thing, unless you’re like my husband and can’t wait to wear your pants pulled up to your chest and eat early-bird specials on the cheap. Hey, if it works for ya, more power to ya.
I’m a big believer in reflecting as each new year approaches. My view has changed over the years, but a few standards remain the same. My mom always reminds me that aging beats the alternative. And she’s right. At my age, I can admit when she’s right even if I couldn’t at 16. The other thing I’ve realized is that my life gets better with age. I was not the high school prom queen. I only had room to move up! Lol.
Sure, we’d all like to avoid the wrinkles, the salt and pepper hairs, the muscles that don’t always work like they used to, and the tough times with the people in our lives, but what about the cool shit we’ve seen?
It used to baffle me when I thought about how our grandparents saw the birth of indoor plumbing and cars and the TV and how, at 90+, they can’t even fathom how email works, but now I just think it’s freaking cool! There are those moments when you realize you saw what others haven’t. I realized this when a young teacher friend of mine wanted to know what a word processor was. I laughed. I’m old, but I knew the answer.
Just think: most of you, my fellow readers, were around for the birth of the modern day computer, the remote control, the internet, and of course, Saved by the Bell! We owned the first Michael Jackson albums. Yes, albums. And we will remember to be patriotic because of 9/11. We know where we were. We know how scared we were, and we know to never forget. We have stories to tell.
My dad tells a story about a couple he and my mom used to play cards with and how they had a pinochle stand-off. The couple has since passed away. He tells it over and over again like that song you listened to when you broke up with that bf/gf you were going to love forever. It used to annoy me that he told the story repeatedly. Now I love to listen to him tell it.
There are little moments that become important because of who was there, what brought you happiness, what made you proud, or gave you a different perspective. Nothing brings me more happiness than knowing I have stories to tell…
If you ask me in my rocking chair about my favorite stories, they will be about the little, unexpected moments like getting caught in a tornado at Wisconsin State Fair or my grandpa telling me that cucumbers would kill me. It’s the little moments, the behind-the-scenes of daily living that make up my many years, and although the number on the cake reminds me I should have accomplished more, it’s not without its moments. Moments that may have included you. Moments that will hopefully get us through the hard times, all of which are more important than a number on a cake…
(Of course if it’s a chocolate or Reese’s Brownie Royale cake then it does make it better…lol.)