I remember the day I looked in the mirror and saw an older woman looking back at me. The previous day, I was young. The next morning, I had aged. What was it about my face that no longer matched my youthful spirit? It couldn’t be the wrinkles. For a woman in her sixties, my creases are few.
That day changed me.
I grew into myself unenthusiastically. Instead of maintaining a never-ending outlook, suddenly, my mortality came into view. It was the day I accepted I was no longer invincible.
Forgetfulness. Creaky joints. More easily tired.
The many signs of becoming old. Or were they merely symptoms of an unhealthy lifestyle?
I’ve accepted my appearance. No longer able to bear the smell or trouble of hair dye, my gray hairs are growing slowly and steadily. But my presence is not the only thing changing.
A few days ago, my mindset shifted, too. It began with writing a prompt about my childhood and recognizing how growing up surrounded by family was a blessing. I hadn’t realized it. Nor did I realize how lucky I was to have parents who loved me more than they loved themselves. How fortunate I was not to worry about where I’d sleep, whether I’d eat, or if I’d have the luxury of playtime.
All I could see was my misfortune. I grew up in a household with rampant uncertainty due to one parent’s illness.
I now realize that stability is as essential to survival as the other social determinants of health, such as housing, nutrition, and healthcare. Growing up with a parent’s impending death is scary, but we all struggle.
I look back fondly on my childhood in ways not possible while in it.
Was I too sensitive a child to recognize that my life was less scary than it seemed?
I may never know how life would have unfolded with the same circumstances, but a stronger, more gracious-minded outlook.
But let’s face it.
As children, we cannot know how lucky we are unless we witness those around us who struggle with less. I grew up surrounded by children who had more.
My friends had healthy parents. As a teenager, I watched schoolmates drive their fancy cars and enjoy an abundantly expensive wardrobe more fabulous than they knew what to do with.
I’ve lived a charmed life. I learned this the first time I met others whose families threw knives their way just because they could. I’ve met adults whose parents gave them away as children to the Children’s Aid for nothing they did wrong. I’ve seen hungry children and heard about others who got bullied.
I’ve struggled with mental health issues, but I’ve lived a fortunate life overall.
I just didn’t know it.
Until now.
This month I’ve added more original jokes to my roster of writing short and long-form stories, and my kitten, Huey, has continued to be my muse. Enjoy.
Meet Huey, the declutter expert.
Here’s wishing everyone a wonderful September and, to those who celebrate, a very Happy New Year.
Stay safe,
I commend your honest retrospective. Gotta love the glasses!
Aww, I know for a fact that Huey is the best muse ever! 😻