Getting Old

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I
was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my
reaction, she was immediately embarrased, but I explained that it was
an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have
always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my
body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I
am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks
like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving
family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've
become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become
my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or
for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I
didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to
a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before
they understood the great fre edom t hat comes with aging. Whose
business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM
and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and
if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging
body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,
despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is
just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important
things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart
not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even
when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are
what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never
broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being
imperfect

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning
gray, but I can still reach the color tubes at the supply house and to
have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my
face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their
hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about
what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even
earned the right to be wrong.



So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I
like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but
while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have
been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every
single day. (If I feel like it)

On 27 Jan, 08:55, redshad <reds....TakeThisOut@tx.rr.com> wrote:
> The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I
> was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my
> reaction, she was immediately embarrased, but I explained that it was
> an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
>
> Old Age, I decided, is a gift.
>
>  I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have
> always wanted to be.  Oh, not my body!  I sometime despair over my
> body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt.  And often I
> am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks
> like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.
>
> I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving
> family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.  As I've aged, I've
> become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become
> my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or
> for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I
> didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio.  I am entitled to
> a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
> I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before
> they understood the great fre edom t hat comes with aging.    Whose
> business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM
> and sleep until noon?
>
> I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and
> if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.
>
> I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging
> body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,
> despite the pitying glances from the jet set.
>
> They, too, will get old.
>
> I know I am sometimes forgetful.  But there again, some of life is
> just as well forgotten. And I  eventually remember the important
> things.
>
> Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.   How can your heart
> not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even
> when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car?  But broken hearts are
> what give us strength and understanding and compassion.  A heart never
> broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being
> imperfect
>
> I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning
> gray, but I can still reach the color tubes at the supply house and to
> have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my
> face.  So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their
> hair could turn silver.
>
> As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about
> what other people think.  I don't  question myself anymore.  I've even
> earned the right to be wrong.
>
> So, to answer your question, I  like being old. It has set me free.  I
> like the person I have become.  I am not going to live forever, but
> while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have
> been, or worrying about what will be.  And I shall eat dessert every
> single day. (If I feel like it)

=============hmmmmm, I had to read this a coupla times, thinking I
must have missed the ''punch Line''. After I post this response, I'll
read it again..
First I actually believed it was from Bill, or Jerry up there in
Houston, or that other old fart, George, up in that area.......But
it's you, damn, it is you redshad.
Apparantly, you received some disturbing news, from your Doctor.
========?======= Skipper, when and if you decide to share what's
ailing ya', feel free to talk with your txMoto friendlies, however, do
take your time......(grinning like an O'possum)==== Mr.JayT