This year has gone by faster than I would have thought possible. It’s not so much “time flies when you’re having fun”–“time flies when you’re getting old” is closer to the truth.
Not that I’m old yet. There was a time when 53 would have seemed impossibly ancient. After all, I was still a child when someone or another warned the young to “never trust anyone over 30.” Heck, we’d all be dead by 30, right? Thirty is long gone for me and most of the people I know. We’re not only still alive, but for the most part still trustworthy. The wisdom and maturity part of aging still eludes me at times, but for the most part, I’m ok with getting older.
The only parts of youth I really miss are physical–not looks, but energy, flexibility and the general lack of lasting aches and pains. I’ve always had a bad back, and had to have surgery on it at one point. I learned to live with that. It’s hard to accept being unable to sit on the floor for fear of not being able to get up, or that it takes so much longer now to lose weight, or that walking short distances can be tiring when I could once walk miles without much thought.
And here it is after 11 p.m.–way past my bedtime. Sigh. I would rather be up till the wee hours playing Scrabble then walking to an all-night greasy spoon with friends for breakfast.
Of course, my love-hate relationship with greasy spoons and greasy food is another story.