Like so many of the “elderly”, I can not bear to be referred to as “old”. I call this aging process, “My Mature Years” and feel more comfortable with a positive connotation. Who mandates we have to graciously accept aging? I believe there has to be a certain amount of healthy feisty resistance combined with some denial to ease us into additional maturing.
Denial can be a saving grace when we become a bit less graceful and need to hold onto the stair banister just in case. We are under the belief if we eat a little better and exercise a little more, we won’t get “old” and that’s comforting. I will accept some aching joints as being overworked—not disuse phenomena or arthritis based. Adding a bit more moisture cream and doing some additional facial Yoga poses when no one is looking works wonders in our belief the wrinkles won’t deepen.
Just as this picture taken recently in a quaint Italian village stuns us with its fiery vibrant colors rather than fading away, we too can “be on fire.” And I intend to remain colorful and fired up about being alive. Surviving major open heart surgery reminds me daily how I AM still ALIVE.
So, take a deep breath. Don’t look too closely in the mirror, use caution along with a moderate amount of energy and enjoy the sunset.
I believe there is a saying, “May you LIVE the rest of your life.” I intend to.
