Aging with Grace

In gratitude for another year

This is one of my favorite photos, taken the morning of my 60th birthday a few years ago. It was my first birthday since my mother’s death the spring before. Shortly after she died, someone told me that our birthday is the most intimate date we share with our mothers, whose heartbeat was the first we heard before we made our worldly debut, and that it might hit hard that first year in particular.

My husband pinned that celebratory “Birthday Girl” button on my favorite robe before heading out to work that morning. The sight of it made me laugh out loud when I put it on, laughter being a wonderfully joyous legacy of my mom’s. And why shouldn’t I laugh? I had come through a dark time, as well as the pandemic, and was celebrating another year of life on life’s terms. A fun, hot pink birthday button was all it took to light up my morning that day.

I have recently noticed that in filling out surveys and the like, I have now been relegated to the “upper tier,” aka the last category of age ranges. This was it, I thought to myself. I’m finally old enough to be listened to and soon no one will even bother. Youth being wasted on the young and all that.

As I celebrated another birthday this week, I am less bothered by the number of years gone by as I am acutely aware of the arm’s length number of years that lie ahead.

I find myself embracing most of the changes that have come along these last few years. I enjoy mentoring young nurses. I’m learning new things. Sometimes people ask my opinion or advice and even follow it. Occasionally, they admit when I’m right — and I’m more willing to admit when I’m wrong. The edges are softening, on more than just my personality. I’m okay with that.

I worry less about the laugh lines on my face and more about what brings a lump to my throat; less about the size of my jeans and more about the miles I hike. Less about where I’m headed and more about who’s beside me on the trail that makes up this final leg of a life journey.

I’m looking forward to having more time for writing projects and spending time with our grandchildren before they’re too cool for us old folks. Watering the garden that is my life, learning to bloom where I am planted, and having time to smell the roses — now those things are cause for celebration!

I laugh more easily at myself and others, and cry more frequently when something touches my soul. All the emotions are right out there on my sleeve now, rolled up and ready to get to work in this last stretch.

Life can change on a dime. I’m learning to laugh when I can and allow the tears to fall where they may. And when all else fails, a sandwich and a nap will take care of most problems, just as in my childhood so many years ago.