Old News

What do I do when I see an aging stranger in my mirror: a.cry, b.smile,  c. scream or d. All of the above? That’s easy, the correct answer is”d”. I’m not  talking just a bad hair day here, I’m flirting with Dorian Gray!  I troll myself and since I know best what’s gets to me, I hurl some pretty good zingers at myself. I’ve got wrinkles on top of  wrinkles, and what about that hair-do and the hair on my  chiny, chin,chin. That deer in the headlines look is not very flatttering. I don’t think my teeth should be brown.  Heads up, my insides don’t match my outsides, so what you see is not what you get.

 Aging is a messy situation. Should I fight it, embrace it, or ignore it?  I could look younger with the right anti-aging potions and lotions and cosmetic surgery,  but I I still wouldn’t have had fewer birthdays. Denying aging will never change the reality of aging. It is a relentless process, stopped only by death….. not a warm fuzzy feeling….

Instead of focusing more on old news or “old”news,  I decided to take a writing break and drive downtown to see an “old” friend.  A Canada goose was about  to cross the street on Centre Avenue, and as I put my brakes on I saw that she was a Mama Goose followed  by 4 goslings and bringing up the rear was Papa goose.  Of course,  I had to come to a complete stop as they ambled across the street. I smiled when I realized I had gotten my warm and fuzzy feeling after all. That moment I was ageless, just a fellow Mother and traveler on the road of life. I had helped my son Tyler cross the street many times. Being in the moment and witnessing the innocence of the goslings made me feel blessed.  It was what I needed to change the direction of my day and take a “right” turn.

Then I remembered my blog about the yellow caterpillar that my late husband, Roger, and I spotted while we were resting on a bench?. Roger was pretty far along in his dementia,  but able to walk and focus on some things. I  don’t think that caterpillars are warm blooded, but they sure are fuzzy. We watched the yellow caterpillar slowly make it’s way across the rocks to the base of a tree. We wondered how it decided which direction to crawl?. Up and down and around the rocks he went. Our world became that yellow caterpillar. We weren’t old or young, or sick or well, we were just there, in the moment. 

I am typing this while sitting on my sofa and I just felt this light touch on my arm. It is my little dog Molly reaching out to me with her paw. She pats my arm to let me know she wants attention, and “pets” and probably to sit on my  lap. She doesn’t care how old I am, or how old I look, or how old I feel. So I’ve went from my angst about aging to warm and fuzzy goslings, caterpillars and Molly. I choose the warm and fuzzy!