With Age Comes Wisdom

With another birthday on the horizon, I am often saddened by the thought of “getting older.”  In fact, a few years ago, I said that I was no longer having birthdays, but rather anniversaries.  I was determined I wasn’t going to grow old gracefully… I would get there kicking and screaming every step of the way!

Well, as many people often say, with age comes wisdom, and I’m finally starting to understand that, and except this idea with open arms.

In fact, I remember receiving the following “story” in an email a while back, and it just kind of rang a bell with me again…so I share this story with you, my friends.

Have a great weekend!

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The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old.  I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.  Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be.  Oh, not my body!  I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging chest.  And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my Dad!), but I don’t agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.  As I’ve aged, I’ve become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself.  I’ve become my own friend.

I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that cement swan that I didn’t need, but looks so avant garde on my porch. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.  I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 & 70′s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love I will.  I will walk the beach in a swim suit that displays my bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful.  But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten.  And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car or dies? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer the question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become.  I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it.)

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