The Conundrum of Aging
Photo by Jake Thacker on Unsplash
Several months ago, I broke my ankle. How? You may think I was on a mission to soar the grand mountain peaks of the Rockies, or running to save children from a burning building. But alas, I was just walking. Just walking. My husband’s take at the time was to remind me that only “old” people break their ankles while walking. I would have kicked him but I didn’t want to sacrifice my one remaining usable foot.What I thought would be a four-week stint in a Velcro laden boot has turned into a much longer recovery period than my klutzy self could have ever imagined. I’m grateful for the body’s ability to heal, albeit at a snail’s pace. Silly me for thinking I would be wearing my 3 inch jewel lined shoes by Christmas, or be able to bounce through an aerobic exercise class. Today, I am still discovering the staying power of sensible sneakers and joining my fellow “seniors” at the recumbent bike station.This whole situation has me thinking about the aging process. As the Hollywood “stars” show up at award shows seemingly wrinkle free, I look in the mirror and see the persistence of grey roots, feel the muffin top of my waist expand ever so slowly, and notice the hint of jowls line the base of my face. I seem to need the wallpaper paste equivalent of face moisturizer to keep the wrinkle lines on my face in check. Very few Academy Award presenters have what I have.There is a distinction between the aging process and growing old. Despite my mid fifties, I refuse to become cranky and intolerant. I refuse to believe that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I refuse to eat dinner at 4:00 pm, and I refuse to become a member of the AARP. Someday I will succumb to my grey hair, but not yet. Having said that, there are other physical changes in aging that I chose to embrace.
The most joyful elderly people I know have permanent crows feet surrounding their eyes. It’s what happens when you are able to find the ability to smile despite a rocky life journey. Cheeks sag, but I think that leaves a softer place for a grandchild’s head to rest while reading a treasured book. Foreheads become lined, a result of surviving the worry and angst born from big love. Age spots dot skin randomly, bearing the marks of wisdom and insight of living life with purpose.
The bottom line for me is as long as you keep smiling you will never become old. I have a photograph of my mother taken a year or so before she died. Her face was wrinkled with lines; her grey hair was short, barely covering her elongated earlobes. Failing health dominated her later days. When I look at her picture, I see her smile, spanning the space of the frame, highlighted by the twinkle in her eyes. Every time I look at her, it makes me remember her youthful spirit despite the toll of her old body.Such perspective is a check for me. There may be frumpy days ahead. I look at my closet full of three inch heeled shoes and wonder if I they will become the souvenirs of a former life. The waist snugging little black dress may become dress up material for my little grand daughter, and my reading glasses may become a permanent fixture on my nose. As long as I can remain upright while walking, I should be in good shape. You can call me klutzy anytime; just don’t call me old. I probably won’t hear you anyway. My hearing aid battery will most likely be dead.