I notice that over the past four years I have accepted, maybe even embraced, being in my 70s. Good thing because what’s a person to do? In fact, I like my age; I like that people don’t expect as much from me. I can float along, play the ‘age card’ and reap the benefits, such as taking the seat offered to me on the crowded T into Boston.
This aging thing, however, has been a challenge because I think I’m younger than I am. Truly, literally! I’ve always looked young, acted young and thought of myself as young. It took me forever to grow up, so no surprise that I have experienced a slight development delay in settling into the meaning of old age for me. Old age? Not really. After all, I can still climb to the top of Brunelleschi’s duomo in Florence and walk the beach for a couple of hours here at the cottage. That hasn’t changed.
What has changed is my certainty of purpose, my conviction that what I am doing is right for me. I like solitude and so I take it; I believe in God and so I pray. I’m fine with who I am and what I’m doing but am still striving for humility. I don’t have to try to act grown up; I am grown up.
Being a kid at heart, I’m laughing at what I just wrote. Maybe I haven’t aged.