It's still a few months away but for tonight at least, I don't care any longer. 59 or 60, it doesn't matter. In fact I'm kinda looking forward to jumping up and down and shouting: "Everyone look at me. I made it to 60!!" Is it possible that 60 is the magic number where you suddenly cease to fear admitting your age? Primarily to yourself? Though I joke a lot about being old and though I've slowed down in dozens of ways, (maybe I should make a list), I still think of myself as young.
I'm not rich or famous and probably never will be. I'm not happily married with children or grandchildren (though I'd argue that I am mostly happy) but hey, I'm almost 60!! That's certainly something to feel a sense of accomplishment towards. A larger number than 10, 20, 30, 40 and 50 all added together. Maybe the only place where that is true.
Funny .... I was at work the other day and I looked at six stacks of boxes, each three-high and my brain just went: "Ummmmmmm 30 total." It took the strange looks and queries of a much younger person before I realized my mistake. Later I chalked up the bad math to getting old. I mean what else could it be. I've had my multiplication tables pretty much down since I was a young teen. Through the twelves anyway.
Tonight I looked in the mirror and for the first time saw more gray than brown. And I was Ok with it. Though it's too early to deny the rumor that I'll be mirror shopping tomorrow.
I hear people my age talking about their various surgeries and hip and knee replacements and I've yet to experience any of the above. Avoidance of such is my number one hope and goal moving forward.
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