Forever Young Promise

My 4-year-old grandson, Thomas reminds me all the time, “Nona, you’re never gonna get old.” That’s exactly what I tell all my grandkids. Yet, Thomas’ frequent reminders make me determined to fully keep that promise.

There are some things we can’t control in the aging process. Take hair color, for example. One of the most treasured people in my life is my hair designer, Tari. We’ve forged quite the relationship over the last 30+ years as she (with her endless creativity) continues to battle my persistent gray hair. At the age of 63, (non-truth be told) I’m still blond!

I swear, the need for reading glasses was the most glaring uninvited gift on my 40th birthday. I’ve been searching for the plethora of misplaced grocery store-purchased glasses ever since. If I had a quarter for every pair of reading glasses I’ve lost, I’d probably be able to buy at least enough hair color to last me until I’m 70. I have my grandkids on high alert that when Nona loses her glasses, all youthful eyes are on the find.  

Despite the inevitable bodily deteriorations, Thomas and I both agree that getting old has nothing to do with grey hair or the need for reading glasses. Time with my grandchildren is the best investment in remaining full of youth. All I need to do is remember my mom, and the example of what it means to be forever young is solidified in my mind.

My mom had an old body from the age of about 55. Years of smoking left her with emphysema that robbed her of breath. Early afternoons were defined by her need to rest. Eventually, mobility became dependent on the use of a rolling walker. In worldly ways, you could describe my mom as old, but those who loved her knew better. Here’s what my mom taught me.

Forever young means elderly eyes see with newness. There’s nothing like a smile framed by the sparkle of authentic wrinkles. I can still feel the joy reflected in my mom’s eyes when anyone entered her space. Anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of such expressive welcoming knows what I mean. Conversely, there are others who look through or past those in their path. Thomas trusts in my commitment to always see him in new ways as he grows and extends his essence in this world. Thomas never met my mom, but by generational osmosis, we both get it.

And then there’s listening. As we age, many of us might feel like we own the truth, settle in certainty, or close our ears to others who think differently. My mom always described herself as gray; where the space between black or white is muddled with compassion and understanding. I aim to be gray, but curious as well. When I listen to Thomas tell me the differences between cheetahs and honey badgers, I vow to never limit my perspective so that I can’t learn from his expanding mind. Did you know that honey badgers have a stripe down their backs that can throw off predators?

Despite the arthritic shoulders, weakened ankles or aching back, I’m determined to meet my grandkids wherever they are. This Nona will never get old as long as I can help it.

I’m channeling my 90-year-old self someday, when after playing on the floor with my great grandchildren, Thomas asks, “Nona, do you need help getting up?” By then I might need a hand, but more importantly I’ll say, “Thanks, Thomas. I’ve got it, but do you know where my glasses are?”