So tell me. What is this supposed to look like?  Well I think it’s different than how I remember my grandmother at 61. She wore support hose, those black heeled tie shoes, a dress that went down to her shins and she was “comfy”- meaning she had no muscle tone, large breasts and a substantial belly. All to lean into and cuddle and be hugged by.

She also died approximately 50 years ago from breast cancer. No hospice. No chemo. No round-the-clock nurse care. My mother did it all.

We also didn’t get to say goodbye.  You just did things differently back in the early 60s.

Now I am in my 60s. Hard to believe as I don’t feel “old” most days. I live in a retirement community where people walk, run, ride, golf, lift, hike. We don’t think of ourselves as “old”. But we are. Our days are numbered. We have less left than we have already lived. And that’s a hard fact to wrap my head around at times. There is so much more that I want to accomplish. I haven’t see Fiji yet. I haven’t swum the Roughwater two miler in Honolulu. I have yet to cruise Alaska with my husband and jump in and swim around the yacht. (Yes they do this.) I need to see the Grand Canyon from the bottom again and climb out. I need to climb so many more peaks- Mt. Humphrey’s in Flagstaff to be specific. There are triathlons in states and cities I haven’t been able to get to. I am not a grandmother yet, but hope to be someday. My daughter is planning her life and getting a career going first.  Good girl. But I am ready whenever she is to be called “grandma”.

And I won’t mind it one little bit.

Time.  Just. Stop. Now. (For awhile please.) Thanks.

Happy almost 61 to me.  I am far from done.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s