How did I get to 'this age'? I remind myself, daily, of what my dad tells me when either of us utter anything about age: It's better than the alternative. Indeed, it is.
When we went to see Garrison Keillor last week (yes, I'm still reeling from that wonderful experience) he started out, after the singing which was fabulous because he was singing and I knew the words to the songs, talking about aging. Looking back, I'm not sure I'm all that thrilled that I knew the words to those songs. Of course, mostly it was due to hearing those songs sung by my grandmother but, still. I knew the words. I was excited to see Keillor live because I've adored him since I first introduced to his comedic genius when I was 17. Then I remembered the year I was 17. It was EONS ago.
And now, here I am. Referencing 30-year-olds as 'kids.'
It's time to wake up and smell that dang coffee of reality. I am not young. I am not elderly. But I am feeling the feels of getting there. I don't believe I'm laughing as hard as Keillor, though he could have been crying behind the hilarity, who knows. I just need to remember that it's so much better than the alternative.
I know I have to get up and move more and keep the laughter going til the bitter end. And, at some point, embrace my age on this side of 50. But, until that happens, I'll just keep turning 53 every birthday as I've been doing for a continued undisclosed period of time.