This has been quite the year. It is the year that I became a widow and, a few months later, turned 70 years old.
A young friend asked me if I felt like I was over the hill. To give him credit, he is 15 years old, and he had no idea that not everyone would welcome that question. And for extra credit, he told me he was asking me that because I didn't "act my age."
Okay ... let's stop here for a minute. His question didn't bother me, although, truth be told, it caught me off guard because of how honest it was. Gotta love 15. But the "act my age part" ... that one grabbed me. How the heck did he expect me to act? What the heck was acting-70-years-old like? I didn't know there were expectations around that. Crap! Where's the instructions (with diagrams, please)?
It seems that everyone he knows my age or older is... well, I suppose the best word for what he described is "slow." Physically slower. He compared me to folks my age who aren't active, or aren't as active as they used to be. He said they "huff and puff their way along." Okay, I've been known to both huff and puff, but I consider that a private thing, and am quite skilled at appearing to do neither while in public spaces. I had him fooled there. I was not about to share with a young fellow how our bodies begin to betray us after a certain age. Let him think I'm in charge of the sometimes-cantankerous collection of flesh that carries me around. After all, I fool myself in that regard often. Until moments like getting stuck behind my toilet while trying to get the water turned off (yesterday's sometimes-I-do-feel-over-the-hill moment).
Then he told me I wasn't boring. Seems one of the over-70 qualifiers is to bore the crap out of everyone else. Don't tell him, but I've been known to do that. Often. What can I say? I'm not a particularly exciting person. He probably interpreted my constant curiosity about his teen-aged alien perspective and my peppering him with constant questions as an indication of mental aliveness. Don't tell him, but it was just me being totally fascinated with him and wanting to immerse myself in whatever that is. Egads ... there is something creepy there about me being an old-lady psychic vampire glomming onto kid energy. Maybe tone that down going forward, Anni.
Beware, my older friends who also don't feel over the hill. Beware of turning into physical slugs, losing your mental edge, and — horror of horrors — becoming boring. I know you feel deeply indebted to me (and my young friend) for that advice.
On a good day, I think I'm pretty much on top of those things. Then ... on other days ... (but that's our secret, okay?).
All that to say ...
First, it almost always takes me that long to get to the point.
Second, now you know why I named my blog "Not Over the Hill."
I am waving my flag proudly from on TOP of the friggin' hill!
It took a lot to get here, and I admit to having hauled up way too much baggage with me (it'll show up in later posts, guaranteed, please forgive). But the view! The VIEW! I can see behind me with a lot more clarity than ever. And while the view out and forward is sometimes hazy, it whispers possibility and encourages me to enjoy my time up here. I don't have to go anywhere, perhaps for the first time in my life. I can just be in this elevated space and know that it is my moment, my reason to be, and my opportunity for gratitude.
You are welcome to join me here. I don't mind if you are physically or mentally not as spiffy as you once were ... because all that matters, and I know this for a fact, is you are absolutely NOT boring.
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