This started out to be a list of 5 good things about being 57. I really don’t know five good things about being 57. I’m 56. But I sure am hoping there are at least five – good things – about this impending age that careens beyond my control towards 60.
But if you want to avoid being depressed about your age, especially at 56, here goes:
(1) don’t let a friend take you out to celebrate your birthday four months early;
(2) don’t look in the mirror too closely – ever!
(3) don’t stay up until 4 a.m. thinking you can bounce back the next morning like you’re still in your 20's . . . or 30's . . . or 40's . . . ;
(4) don’t round up - ever (as in “I’m going to be 57 – wow, that’s almost 60!);
(5) don’t hang out with much younger people – their shock at your age is flattering, but it is still shock;
(6) don’t start cello lessons at 56 – the sound of the 12 year olds racing across the strings with their spry bows will only depress you, for you will never have that agility again;
(7) never – and I do mean never – read or watch Mrs. Dalloway – there is literally nowhere to run from the musings of the ever genteel title woman’s ruminations on the things she will never do again.
So there it is – my list of how to avoid being depressed about the ticking clock. Most days, I’m glad to be who I am, where I am, and the age I am. But every now and then, that blasted ticking clock reminds me that the alligator waits*.
And I hate alligators!
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*Check out Peter Pan if you don’t get the reference.
