At My Age--
I'm supposed
to be an old lady--
But I'm not!
At My Age--
I'm not my
age!
So how did I ever to get to be My Age--
and still
not feel
My
Age?
All my life
I’ve been hurtling toward this point,
this being
76 years old,
walking with
a cane,
loaded with
artificial joints
and alarming
arthritis,
.....AND YET....
I am
strangely content every day;
I love that
my daughter and I are roomates.....
that I
have three beautiful,
delightful grandchildren.....
and am blessed
with two beautiful,
incredible daughters-in-law
so wisely selected by my
two handsome, amazing sons.
(I do love superlatives, don't you?)
I revel in the joy of wonderful siblings
and lifelong friends....
a sweet
apartment home.....
a bountiful
drive-thru public library.....
an amazingly
full techy life,
thanks to my laptop and cell phone.....
flavorful
coffee in the morning
and iced sangria in the evening.....
a smart and
entertaining television set
complete
with commercial-free streaming.....
I'm ever grateful for my
amply
loaded refrigerator and pantry
to nourish
and delight
my all too eager taste buds.....
and that I live in a
climate-controlled home
impervious
to whatever outrageous weather
lurks outside my door.....
What a sweet, sweet life.....
So really,
why be concerned about My Age?
I can’t do
anything about it.
I can act
“it” or not;
I can hide
it (really?) but will fail--
I surely can
celebrate it,
AND I DO!!!
