I spent part of Labor Day with my mom at the place she lives. It is a very nice retirement community that provides activities and socializing for retirees. It is not an assisted living facility but a community. They had a band playing and then a buffet. I was sitting with mom and a few of her friends, watching people come and go. As I sat there I found myself thinking that if no one knew better they might think I lived there as well.
It hit me like a brick.
I’ve never thought of myself as old. In my heart I think and enjoy things that are youthful. I listen to the current music and love the idea of adventure in clothes and experiences. In my dreams I am young, skinny and full of life. I know my hair has plenty of silver, it blends well with my blond hair color, but I’ve started to wonder how did this happen?
When did I get old?
I don’t like it and I muddle through what I am missing being the age I am now. I always looked younger than my age and that was fine with me. There are so many places I haven’t seen. I love to travel. So many things I haven’t tried. My restlessness that has been with me forever is becoming more intense. I will never be that young again. I try not to dwell on it but times like Monday throw it in my face.
It’s like the words Stevie Wonder wrote, “I wish those days could come back once more.” Writing all of this now sounds silly to me. The words sound selfish.
Time goes swiftly, don’t wait to do, see and experience everything.
Regret is a nasty tasting pill. Maybe tomorrow will be brighter but clouds are necessary. I guess I will keep looking for fairies and angels and keep writing.