Each morning, while my coffee is heating up, I do my physical therapy exercises. They were prescribed for my neck and shoulders, but I’ve implemented some additions. I bend over at the waist, place my right hand on the counter, and then swing large circles with my left arm. I switch sides and repeat. By that time, the chime on the microwave goes off. We don’t throw away old coffee.
I added those exercises when I learned that the most important physical attribute you can have as you age is being able to bend over to pick up things. I used to groan when I dropped something. I still groan when that happens, but I can pick up the item. I don’t want a “grabber” tool.
I am 71 years old. Friends in their 80s and 90s think I’m young. Friends in their 50s and 60s think I’m still of a viable age. Friends younger than 50 think I’m wise and talented with much to offer. I believe a lot of what is said about aging falls short: “You’re only as old as you feel.” “Age is an attitude.” Like all the other adjustments they have made to the way we look at the world, maybe the boomers need to re-write all of this.
“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.” Robert Frost
Aging means letting go. I can let go of physical items. I have seen, many times, in my neighborhood, with family and friends, that when a person dies, a dumpster appears and then is filled with perfectly good items. Tossed out, thrown into landfills. Caring about the world after you die is the greatest form of altruism. I say to William, “Well, no one’s going to have to get a dumpster for my stuff.” I say to William, “Someone can use it,” with each donation I make to thrift shops.
Letting go. If aging is about letting go and not about losing, how do the deaths of the people I loved factor into the equation. Do we lose, then learn to let go? Though Plato stressed disengagement—freeing the aged for spiritual contemplation—he espoused a dual perspective. Continuity. It is important that we continue doing what we are doing…so,I start every day, swinging wide circles. Even so, I feel how aging is fraying the fabric of my life.
Barbara A. Rouillard has over 100 publication credits and was a public high school special education teacher for over 32 years.
