Aging is not for the young: It's too hard. Every age is hard in its own way, but nothing beats getting old and watching friends and family members of one's own generation get in touch with their mortality. When I was younger I acted as if I were immortal. I knew I wasn't, in theory, but in practice it didn't seem that unlikely. As with so many, I dawdled, wandered, procrastinated as if my actual life hadn't yet begun. But, alas, there is no practice run. No do-overs. Mistakes pile up, missed opportunities and later deaths like wood by the side of the barn. My parents are long gone. Grandparents too. I never knew either grandfather, and my grandmothers for reasons obscure (to me) at the time were mysteries. On the plus side, I'm not quite as blind as I once was, or such is my current theory. And the slow accumulation of memories and lessons and losses has finally made me realize My time on this Earth is not unlimited, not guaranteed And not likely to be overly long. So I read and ponder, and play with my grandkids when I can, since one is close and the others far And watch leaves turn colors and shimmer on bright cold autumn days, a reminder that Like the sodden leaves cluttering sidewalks and curbs there is a time for everything, including my own departure and that of those I love. And so I age in place, watching the world spin the leaves fall and the stars and constellations tell their ancient tales, as if they were written just for me.
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So moving. Really lovely!! 💕
A beautiful poem and observation ~ "...aging in place..." indeed.