A is for age.
Age is a lovely thing when one is young. We eagerly anticipate each and every birthday and proudly learn to hold up the proper number of fingers to signify our age when inquiring folks question. The turning of years brings new freedoms and responsibilities; we go to school, learn to read, take off on a bicycle ride, find odd jobs, and eventually acquire the skills to move out on our own. We get jobs, drive cars, find homes, and raise families. We make grown up decisions and dole out advice. Then one day we realize that the numbers which make up age are rising much faster than we ever anticipated. We flail for the brake lever but find that life is rolling ahead at full tilt. There is no slowing this barreling locomotive.
It doesn't seem long ago that my own parents neared the fifty year mark. I recall thinking then, "Fifty really isn't so old..." After all my parents still seemed young. Then came 60, and 70. Dad never made it to 80, but 80 was sounding younger and younger with the passing of time. Dad just didn't seem old. It's been three years now since he moved on, and Mom is fast approaching her eighties, but while Dad seemed young and strong, Mom struggles.
I have decided to face the dreaded "mid-life crisis" by refusing to age. (Some of my friends are well aware of this.) I celebrated my 40th birthday with a surprise party (thrown by My Darling and his sister) and it was a wonderful day. I counted the following five years and enjoyed each added one, but when I arrived at the wonderful age of 45, I decided I'd aged enough. The following year I began to count backward and it's been working out great! I don't feel a day over 42 and I'm heading straight for 41 again in March. I can hardly wait!!!
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The Bug Jar.
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