Sunday, December 17, 2017

12 In Cat Years

This week on Life In Pieces, one of my favorite sitcoms, one of the characters turned 35 and was having a meltdown over it, especially when a cake arrived at the dinner table with the number candles reversed to say 53.

Hey, I'll take 53!

You see, this week I turn not 35 (ha!) or 53 (I wish!) but 65.

Yes, 65, that magic year when you have to sign up for Medicare, and retirement becomes a real possibility. It's an age when you're eligible for all of the senior menus and discounts.

My mother died at 52 of heart disease. My father passed away at 79 from a stroke. If you average their ages, it comes out to 65.5. This birthday, I'm smack between the two ages when they died. My brother died in his 60s due to liver disease. It definitely makes me pause to reflect, even though I'm pretty healthy for an old broad.

But I digress, which, by the way, is part of getting old. As I pause on the brink of turning 65, I don't want to bemoan lost years, growing old, or creaky knees. I want to celebrate what's ahead of me, and when I turn my head away from the past and focus on the future, I flutter with excitement. 

As most people wind down, I'm starting a new adventure. Soon I'll be retiring and making my goal of becoming a wandering writer a reality. I have places to go and people to meet, as well as connecting with long-time friends scattered around the country.

I have about 26 published novels under my belt. Time to quit and rest on an impressive body of work? No way! In the next two years the plan is to write and publish at least 4 more novels.

I'm so excited, I could widdle!  By the way, another problem with getting older.


1 comment:

millhills said...

I’ve always wanted to write something.