As I've Aged by Margaret Berry

 

I have posted this before, and I will surely be posting it again.

Margaret Berry speaks words straight from my very soul as I turn 75 today.

❤  Life is good  ❤

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 butt.

And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror,

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 silly cement gecko that I didn't need,

but looks so avante garde on my patio.

I am entitled to overeat,

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 until 4:00 am and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50s & 60s,

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 is stretched over a bulging body and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,

despite the pitying glances from the bikini 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 when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? 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 turn 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.

I can say "no" and mean it.

I can say "yes" and mean it.

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 your 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 want to.

-  Margaret Berry

https://alcalde.texasexes.org/2015/07/old-age-is-a-gift/

Some things never change.

I still love pretty dresses and nice jewelry.

And . . .

Chocolate cake for birthday breakfast 

I'm HOW old??

This post originally appeared at ACME AUTHOR LINKS on Friday, November 21, 2008

KAYE BARLEY IS ALMOST 60!

Kaye Barley with her Aunt, Eve Burchette, Harley, and her Mom, Hazel Wilkinson.

Thanks to my friend Rob Walker for inviting me to drop by. Rob just recently celebrated a milestone birthday. And I’m following right on his heels. We both agree that we cannot possibly be . . . . . - forget it, I can’t even say it!Let me try again.Six . . . Six . . . Sixty. Sixty years old. HOW did this happen?! I don’t feel 60. And am often told I don’t act 60 (this has not always been meant in a complimentary way)

But oh well, there you have it. Birthdays happen. The milestone birthdays sneak up on us. And while we’re bemoaning those milestone birthdays, other things happen. Like your mom having a birthday. We recently celebrated my mom’s 83rd birthday. At least, I did - only to be told the next week that she had actually just turned 82. Oh, the guilt. Hopefully, she’ll forget that unforgivable lapse. Especially seeing as how I did the exact same thing last year!!

Mom-Hazel Wilkinson

Funny, though, for all the talking she does about her memory and how bad it is, there are things she never forgets. Her only child forgetting how old she is might just be one of them (and as it should be). Before you all start thinking I’m being unkind, please know that she and I have, and always have had, a great relationship. She’s my buddy,and I feel pretty sure she would tell you that I’m hers.

We have not always been best friends though. When I was growing up, she never once let me forget that she was “The Mom.” She didn’t give a twig about being my friend; figuring I already had lots of friends, but I only had one mom, and it was a job she took very seriously.

And she did it well. For one thing, she read to me. And took me to the library. And she taught me how to bake Snickerdoodles. Like some of you, we’ve passed that curve of our family growing larger, and are on the other side of the slope, where its getting smaller, so when we invite family to spend the weekend to celebrate the occasion of Mother’s birth its not as though there’s a house full of people. Just me and Donald and Harley. My mom, her sister Eve, and Eve’s husband J.T. A small little group.

My mom is the second oldest in a family of 11. They’re not all still with us, and those who are live pretty far away and aren’t able to travel long distances for get-togethers any more.

It was a fun weekend. We did all those things families do when they get together - whether they’re a big group, or a small group. We ate too much. We stayed up too late. We told the same stories we tell everytime we’re together. We laughed hysterically, and boo hooed a little.
And we missed the ones who were not there.

It was a perfect weekend, melancholy and nostalgia notwithstanding, and I loved every second of it. But oh laws, did I get tired. Seemed like every time I turned around someone was saying “sweetie, would you bring me a fresh cup ofcoffee/coke/wine/whatever, please.”

At one point during the weekend when I felt as though everyone was well settled,and that they were doing fine at entertaining themselves, and that they all had their beverage of choice, I slipped off to the bedroom to close the door and read. I’m used to a lot of quiet time, and quiet time is in short supply in an itty bitty house with three extra people.

This was just what I needed. I am after all, almost 60! I get tired too you know! But then, you know what? The door opened and peeking around at me was this very short little woman with fluffy white hair, and the sweetest smile and thebrightest eyes, wanting to know if I was O.K. I invited her in and she climbed up on the bed next to me, took my hand and thanked me for having her over for her birthday. And she told me what a good daughter she thought I was.

Next thing I know here comes another woman, this one a little taller, but with the same sweet smile and the same bright eyes - peeking around the door at us,wanting to know if we were O.K. We invited her in and she climbed up on the bed with us. She patted my hand and told me what a good niece she thought Iwas. I put my book away, fluffed up pillows for us all, and asked who might want a fresh cup of coffee.

Quiet time and that book would be there tomorrow when everyone else had gone home. Tomorrow I can go back to being almost 60. Today it feels nice being 6 and being told what a good girl I am.

Kaye -- this was lovely, well put, so well put. Loved the way it came full circle! - Rob Walker


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