This is not a “poor me,” or an “angry old bitch” post.
It’s simply my way of working through the losses that come with aging.
My teeth are getting bad.
I need to lose about 30 more pounds (but my doctor would be happy with a 50 pound loss), I need both knees replaced, and I use an asthma inhaler 3-4 times a week in the rainy weather of Seattle.
At my age, a hot night is one in which I must use a fan or air conditioning.
A hot date is an evening cuddled on the couch with four of my grandchildren (#5 is grown up and with her significant other, another grandchild is with her mother in NY, but that’s another post).
I’ve got high blood pressure and will probably be taking medication soon.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way, because that’s life, my friends.
We’re born, we live, we die.
I’ve got a family that loves me, an employer that has moved heaven and earth to keep me working for him, and a landlady that thinks I’m pretty cool to have in her home.
Every day when the alarm goes off, I’m able to get out of bed under my own steam.
I’ve been able to grieve for and accept my past, and I’ve kicked abusive, controlling people out of my life for good.
I’ve learned, finally, that each day is a precious gift to be treasured, absorbed, and set aside to make way for the next golden twenty-four hours.
So, it’s official: I’m getting old.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
