Sometimes there comes disappointment. In others. In self. In circumstance. In God. Each of those requires a very close look. At what can be changed. At what can’t. How to decide.
Most of us come to our plans and our futures starry eyed and full of hope and distortion….that starry eyed thing…and we set about to do the impossible, since dreams are just that. We must learn reality.
We rarely look at our future old age while only twenty. In a time when it seems more and more of us live to be centenarians, that thought can be daunting, but not when we’re twenty. We can’t think that far ahead.
Time really does march on, whether or not we’re paying attention. Youth packs time tightly, while it flies. We live the many stages of life without batting an eye. We just burn through it and one day, believe it or not, we turn around and wonder where it all went. We come to realize there won’t be a whole lot more left.
I was blessed to travel extensively while I was young enough to do it. I saw lots of the world. High energy was an unrecognized gift. Together my husband and I ate up huge pieces of the world, sometimes at Mach speed.
We took on challenges without hesitation. We spent our lives dealing with whatever. We shouldered some of it with lots of help from family and friends. And without much effort.
I think this blog is about the necessary effort required now to do even simple things. It surprises me because I don’t think of myself as aged. The past several months have been plagued with small injuries that limited me in large ways. Just walking around, and creeping upstairs, really put a dent in my speed. It turned out to be nothing permanent.
I’m doing fine with those limitations which have corrected. But I think those were harbingers whispering the future. Because it is the rare old lady who is bopping around like a teenager. I won’t set the bar unrealistically high. But I expect to keep up, at least, with folks my own age.
Now, if only I can get my husband out of his chair and away from the television. Movement is not in his wheel house. I know that’s not a good thing. But, thinking about it, I can’t let that determine my own activity. I can’t make him my project. He is much more alive and alert when with other people. That requires getting out of the chair. He’s not just having a slow day. His preference for the chair is becoming permanent. There is not enough room in the chair for the both of us.
Okay, none of that served any purpose. But I’ll let it stand instead of deleting just so you know I’m very human.
It is gorgeous outside. Think I’ll go there. Anything to get away from the ironing. Yes, folks. I still iron.