February is my birthday month. As I enter my 68th year, I have no idea what 68 is supposed to look and feel like. I am constantly bombarded with the image that youth is exemplified by glamour and sexiness and aging means disintegration. Even at 68, I still feel sexy and glamorous more often than old and decrepit.
My mother would often comment that she didn’t feel old but wondered where the old woman in the mirror came from. An older woman was walking in the park one day and we struck up a conversation. She told me that she was 92 and walked 10 miles per day. “I don’t feel any different inside than I did in college,” she told me.
Now I understand what they meant. Maybe youth isn’t a time of life, but rather, a state of mind and age is simply a sum of experiences. Losing dreams and ideals are more aging than the passing of years. Years may wrinkle my skin, but losing dreams will wrinkle my soul.
Yesterday is gone and tomorrow has not yet arrived. Today I stand on the threshold of things that are wonderful and new. New experiences await and I will maintain a sense of wonder and awe as I look forward to what’s next. I can’t wait!
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