Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2008 8:13 pm Post subject: The gift of age
Older Age, I've decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less grey hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set .
They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning grey(!), and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)
Ivan ,that was really lovely and how true it all is .
When I was a little girl I always craved sparkly things ,a bit like a magpie ,now I buy 'pretties' ,I some times feel guilty ,that the money could have been spent on more sensible things ,but ,life is too short and in the end my wonderful daughters will get my 'pretties' and, hopefully ,when having to dust them all (and swearing about the hassle) ,they will remember me and my funny little whims and ways and smile.
By the way ,THAT person in my mirror is NOT me it looks (horror of horrors ) a bit like my Mum ,but it is definitely NOT me
I know what you mean I shave my dad's face in the mirror every morning.
Thanks for the elegant piece of prose Ivan I have copied it to all my "old" friends.
"By the way ,THAT person in my mirror is NOT me it looks (horror of horrors ) a bit like my Mum ,but it is definitely NOT me"...
Do you know what, i got the shock of my life today (or was that yesterday.?.) anyway..lol...
as i still have not got my passport to paradise from TDC i thought i`d look at the blue application form i photocopied, with 2 photos, before i sent it off.
In this little bundle is the 2 spare photos from the original 4 that i got from that magic tardis in Woolworths, where you give it 4 gold coins, smile, and it gives you 4 pictures of someone else.....spooky..
Ivan back to the plot,
OK, i looked at the remaining 2 and they were of my dear old departed dad...
Surely they were not MY photos............were they......?..?
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) a bit like my Mum ,but it is definitely NOT me 
