Last summer, I turned old.

I turned 60.  We gained a second son-in-law in a year’s time.  My job description changed for about the billionth time – without my consent.  And I became an orphan when my Dad died and my Mom landed solidly within Dementia.  My joints ache unless I eat properly – and eating properly means ditching sugar and gluten entirely.

And a student in my class last year was EXACTLY 40 years younger than me.

40.

Younger.

Every Christmas I put “Pave the lane” at the top of my Christmas list.

Our lane is about six car lengths long, our hill descends at about a 45% angle, towards a flat football field length of drive that culminates in low-water bridge over a creek/raging river (depending on its mood).

Beginning sometime in December, that lane consumes much of my waking thought.  Come to think of it, much of my dreaming thoughts as well.

Icey descents.  Potential of long hikes uphill.  Enough tread to descend with grip?  Enough speed to get up the hill?  Is there gravel showing to allow extra grip?  Is there gravel?  Wait, is it melting?  What is the creek level?  Is the bridge covered with water?  Can I see the edges where the bridge connects to the drive itself?

Is there a bridge?

And then I decided to get old.

How close can I park to the store?  How big is the store?  Will my knees hurt the entire time, or can I get through most of the store before they give out?  Will there be someplace to sit?  Where is the bathroom?  Do I have sensible shoes (Stupid question, because for about 3 years, I’ve ONLY had sensible shoes.  Which, I might add, is sincerely unacceptable and sad.)  Will the restaurant have anything I can eat?  Will Steve be around to carry everything for me?

Holy Crap.  I decided to be old.

That’s boring.  And predictable.  And routinely sad and unacceptable.

And I’m done with that.

So.

I’ll finish losing weight and continue eating appropriately.

I’ll research bridge options and save the funds necessary for repairing the lane and making it less of an obstacle.

And I’ll stop being old.  And worried.  And tired.

And lame.

I’ll start by buying impractical shoes.  With color.  Lots of color.

 

 

19 Feb This entry was published on February 19, 2018 at 7:23 pm and is filed under Learning. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.