Next week I will turn 50. It feels just a little bit like Old Age is creeping up on me! Although my good friend Margrit just told me the other day that 65 is when the real challenge begins. And I doubt I will feel a whole lot differently when it’s no longer 49, but a five in the beginning.
When I turned 24 I had a really serious time about that change. But it was also one of occasions when I actually celebrated – I was a teaching assistant at
at that time,
mostly campus bound, and invited a few friends out to dinner. This time I am
not afraid, although a couple of times I have jokingly referred to myself as
‘aging’. Indeed – my eyesight is changing faster than the insurance company is
willing to pay for a new set of glasses. Last time they were willing to pay I
was still too vain to go for bifocals, just got myself a new set of glasses for
driving. Now my reading abilities have gone down further – and solely due to
eye issues, nothing mental yet! - so I had
to get myself some “reading glasses”. And old age immediately struck in that I in
those three weeks since I got this extra pair of glasses I have already had
several days when I did not exactly know where to locate at least one pair of
the three that I am juggling with now. Holy Cross
|Glasses for driving|
|The new pair of 'reading glasses'|
|The old pair which is not right anymore, |
but has to substitute when I can't find the
ones with the black rim, or when I am
trying to play the piano early in the morning...
The one I needed to change to always was somewhere else than where I thought I had left it. Of course, I could consider this a way of ‘brain jogging’, appropriate for seniors. If it hadn’t been my husband’s brain who finally found them...
Certainly, turning 50 does not feel in any way as I expected it to back then when I turned 24. Just about at that time I first met a college teacher through taking a class from her who, in her position as a university teacher, to me seemed – well, not exactly elderly, but certainly she must have been much older than I was! (She was 36, or 37 at the most.) We got to be friends over the years, stayed in touch – and by now I am about 15 years older than she was when we first met, whereas she just retired from teaching last year.
Talking to the young people from Syria whom I have spent a lot of time with lately, I must admit that I think I don’t feel much older than them on the inside – but I am pretty sure they look on me similarly as I did onto that teacher of mine. (If not 'worse', because I could be their mother, and although they haven’t told me, I am pretty sure their mothers are younger than I am.) And then a now 10-year-old boy in the house, who is definitely entering puberty and he, too, a taurus, and arguments aren’t getting easier or less frequent. He has a strong opinion, and a good command of language in terms of argumentation... So at least 50 is not going to be boring, which I once thought it might be. After all, most of the interesting things in life will have happened by that time, won’t they? But statistics say I have at least another 30 years ahead of me. Let’s see what those years bring. Can’t all of them be boring!