Today was my 80th birthday. I asked Siri to sing me Happy Birthday. She said, “I would rather leave that up to the professionals.” There were lovely flowers; cookies too. Two Christmas poinsettias to flank our door. And a surprise family FaceTime party. That was just what was needed. Hearing everyone’s voice, seeing their faces. Even though dear ones are out of physical reach; it is so important to so many this year. No, not just this year, every year.
80! That is a birthday number that belongs to my mother, my grandmother, old people. I don’t feel old and I avoid mirrors so that I don’t look old. I hurt; but I have always lived with pain so that’s nothing new. An exception perhaps would be for my right big toe. That solution is to not fall through the barn floor again.
My December birth date makes me one of the last of my peers to reach this pinnacle moment of 80. Born on East Main (not the street, a house); I am headed to being the oldest living person born in our once upon a time little town.
Pinnacle moment? I certainly hope not. I plan for there to be many more birthdays before I say hello to Mother Earth. So I am aiming for the century point, plan to miss the target, and hit at least 105. I need those 25 years to accomplish all that I plan to do.
The depressing aspect of marking 80 is future plans. Younger birthdays were filled with the excitement of what we thought was to come and what actually came about. Older birthday’s have lost a lot of the intrigue. No mystery here. Other birthday’s were always looking into the distance; but the reality, at this age, is that just looking down the road has potholes and unseen curves. Best to ignore defining numbers from here out.
I am reinventing myself to find a new purpose, set new plans. Nothing in concrete. One needs to set their plans in sand so that they can shift and adjust. Set in stone and you wind up unmovable between a rock and a hard place. Then you just gather moss.
What is there to lose in redesigning yourself. Money? Don’t have any. Time? Sitting still would waste time just as well as a failed attempt. Embarrassment? Don’t tell anyone what you are doing, what did not work. Besides if something does not work at this age; it is probably a hilarious story.
So I start my blog and over time my endeavors; planned, not planned, and all the serendipities will come to light.
A Life About Anything, Everything, Nothing At All 