Age is…

Have you ever noticed that the people who say that “age is just a number” have an age that’s a fairly small number? In other words, they don’t know what they’re talking about.

There are probably several hundred different ways to finish the sentence “Age is …,” some more pessimistic than others and almost none being particularly optimistic. Once you hit sixty-five, it’s hard to come up with anything to look forward to when another year passes.

Age is waking up in the morning wondering which joint is not going to work today.

 I’m not complaining. I’ve been given more than my allotted three score and ten, and I’m still upright and taking nourishment. But I know that it’s a very short trip from “his mind’s as sharp as it ever was” to “doesn’t he look natural.”

Age is standing at the bottom of the steps wondering if you’re about to go up or have just come down.

No matter how optimistic you may be, it’s hard to be fearless in the face of aging. Every time you hear of a friend who has to call to get directions back home from downtown or who goes to lunch and can no longer make sense of the menu, you wonder about your own capacities. Not only how quick they may go, but whether they’re really as good as you think they are.

Age is laughing in the face of the roofing salesman who asks if you want twenty-year warranty.

And then there are all the new decisions you have to make with an old mind. At what point do you decide that you need to move into a community of “active seniors,” or a facility for not-so-active seniors? When do you decide that the next time your driver’s license comes up for renewal you’ll just let it go? Should you take a trip that takes you out of commuting distance to one or more of your doctors?

Those decisions are probably no harder than the ones we made when we bought the house (or even the first car new car), and certainly no harder than the ones we made when we were trying to figure out how to raise the children without doing them bodily or psychological harm. But they seem so final. It’s the sort of downsizing that goes way beyond throwing out twenty-year-old magazines.

Age is choking up almost every time you look up an address in your address book because of all of the names crossed out.

However, there are reasons to keep looking forward. Having seen the children grow up to be good people, you get to watch your grandchildren do the same thing. Every winter the collards come in, and every summer the fresh tomatoes. There’s always another book that might be interesting or an opportunity to learn something new. And there’s a chance for a conversation with another aging individual that goes beyond the well-known “organ recital.”

Age is looking into the mirror and wondering if plastic surgery is really all that expensive.

I haven’t come to a conclusion is regarding age, and I probably won’t. It’s not necessary. Every day I still get to make decisions that dictate what kind of person I am. Every day I can still find some way to be useful. And every day I get to see people I love and who love me. And that’s not a bad thing at all.

Age is waking up on a whole lot of mornings, putting your feet on the floor, and going to do what needs to be done.