Middle Age? Only if I Live Until I'm 130.
CeCe's Musings
#6: Age Ramblings
Last week I joined a new community through Substack called Midstack. It sounded like an interesting place to learn more about growing my readers and see what other women are writing, so I answered a few questions, submitted an example of my writing, and was quickly accepted into the group. As I was perusing the posts, it suddenly occurred to me…Midstack is for midlife women! Midlife? If you want to go by actual years, I was midlife during the early 2000s. Y2K. Bush. Britney Spears. I was a single mom with tween/teen boys to raise, and that was a long, long time ago. Before texting, Facebook, and 2016.
Now I’m a retired teacher, grandmother, and great aunt. Midlife is definitely in my rearview mirror….yet…I do not think of myself as old. What is old? It’s always at least ten years older than you are, right? I’m not old. Or am I?
During a lunch date with a fifty-something friend, we were talking about age. She said she had heard that there are two points in your life when you begin to feel your age, at 40 and at 60. She then asked me, “What about you?” I told her that 40 wasn’t too traumatic, but now, at 65, I’m physically feeling it. Every time I get up out of a chair I make this sound that is a cross between a dying moose and a bored ghost. Despite decent exercise goals, my body seems to be cackling, “I’ll get you, my pretty.” Damn. When did I become the wicked witch in this scenario?
Do I fight aging, give into it, or, perhaps, look at it from another angle? Yes, I have years on me, but, oh my goodness, I have these years. These marvelous, glorious years full of experiences and stories and adventures. Yes, I have wrinkles, but dang, I have wrinkles and dark spots that are maps that tell me where I’ve been and maybe where I’m going. Yes, I have some gray hair, but, holy moly, this hair of mine has seen a few things, and the chemicals and money spent on coloring it are no longer part of its journey.
Who do I see when I look in the mirror? Sometimes my mother, but, mostly I see a woman who is creative and strong and loving. I’ve baked a few pies, written a slew of posts, and laughed along with some great women. I’m still trying to navigate this roadmap. Where do I turn? Is this a dead end? Can the GPS recalibrate my trip?
On the latest episode of the Wiser Than Me podcast, Julia Louis-Dryfess asked Jane Goodall if she felt 90, and Jane told her that no, she doesn’t really think about her age. She just keeps going. If Jane Goodall can do it, so can I. I haven’t lived among the chimpanzees, but I did teach adolescents for over 30 years.
Age is an arbitrary number. I may be getting older, but I’d not old. As I wrote earlier, old is ten years older than me….until forever.
“That’s another great thing about getting older. Your life is written on your face.” ~Frances McDormand
Yes! I won't be old for at least another 10 years either.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.