What’s Another Year or Ten Anyway?

A couple of days ago my husband Dave passed a major age milestone as he turned sixty.  Although he’s in good health and isn’t showing anymore signs of losing his mental capacity than he ever did, there is no point in denying that at sixty, there will be fewer birthdays ahead of us than we can look back upon.  And, even though his birthday is several months ahead of mine, I think of us as the same age, so when he changes his age, I mentally change mine as well.

We are blessed with what our friends claim is a youthful appearance.  We often hear, “you don’t look that old!” but I’m never quite sure whether those who are offering the complements are truly good judges of what a sixty-year-old person should look like or if they are in denial of how old they are and they want us to look young.

I’m not so sure I know what sixty-year-old people are supposed to look either.  I don’t know why, but I look back to my childhood to look for references of old people.  For instance, Mrs. Wilson, the kindly older woman who lived next door to Dennis the Menace; was she sixty?  She had all the outward appearances of an older woman, grey hair, glasses, and slightly thicker figure.  Is that how I look?  Except for visibly grey hair, I am Mrs. Wilson.  The difference between us is that she seemed to act old and I am convinced that I do not.

Thankfully, looks aren’t everything and except for the occasional stiff muscle and body ache after I’ve been on my feet too long (like spending hours baking Christmas cookies), I don’t feel old.  Inside I am the same kid I always was, inquisitive, teasing, silly and loving.  The years haven’t changed that, but they have worn my sharp edges making me more peaceful, confident and relaxed.

There may not be as many birthdays ahead as there are behind, but if the past is any indication of the future, the years ahead will be full of life and as Martha Stewart would say, “it’s a good thing”!