"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, 'Wow! What a Ride!" ~ unknown
Thirteen. Sixteen. Twenty-one. Each of those birthdays called for festive parties with much celebration; the twenty-first birthday festivities often leading to a little too much celebration, if you know what I mean!
When I turned twenty-five my husband spent the entire day telling me I was ‘a quarter of a century old.’ The day I turned fifty my brother sent a huge bouquet of 50 black balloons to my classroom at school and my fellow teachers made me wear a birthday button all day that said ‘over the hill.’
Turning sixty came and went without much hoop-la…but, tomorrow – ah, tomorrow - I turn 65 and, truthfully, I am not very excited at the thought of being 65.
Months ago the government started preparing me for the big day by sending me all the paperwork for Medicare. Really…am I old enough for Medicare? I thought Medicare was for 'old' people!
Not too long ago I over-heard my grandson saying to a neighborhood friend “Granny Sue’s old – really old. She has white hair.”
Do you remember when our parents would immediately turn to the obituary section of the newspaper first thing in the morning? Yup! You guessed it. That’s now me. Oh dear.
But I’m not throwing in the towel yet! I’m thankful for each new day and each opportunity. Like the piano pictured above, I’ve got a few signs of age, but I’m making sure that when my time comes I can ‘loudly proclaim,’ “Wow! What a Ride!”