Last week I realized that I’ve been twenty-one three times. At sixty-three I started to envision how I wanted my remaining years to be. Then a few days ago, I turned a page and I was sixty-four. Who would ever think I’d be sixty four? Sixty-four!! I humor myself with this realization by singing a chorus of Paul McCartney’s famous song,
When I’m Sixty-Four ……Will you still need me?
Will you still feed me?…..When I’m sixty-four.
When the big 6-O arrives, everything changes. You wake up one day and count how many years you hope to have left. You’ll compare your age with the age your parents past away. Based on that number, my dad passed away at my age now. My mom passed at age seventy-four; therefore giving me ten years. That is, if I am very blessed with good health.
When I’m with my daughters and their children, I get so sentimental. Memory Lane brings me back thirty years ago when they were at that age. They have the same fascination with the beach and fear of seagulls stealing their food. They sing the same silly songs. Their little ones make phone calls just like they used to call my mom complaining, “Your daughter is not being nice today, Nan. She put me in time-out. I didn’t mean to put peanut butter all over my brother.” I love those phone calls, just like my mom did.
My hopefully ten years are simply not long enough for me. I need at least another thirty, in splendid health. I don’t want to be the oldest person dancing at the beach bars.
I’ve already calculated my grand kid’s milestones. In ten years, they will be almost thirteen and fifteen. I need to see the girls’ prom dresses and my grandson’s tuxedo. I need to be there for broken hearts and driver’s licenses. I’ll even let them drive my car.
A few years later, I’ll need to dry my daughter’s eyes when they leave for college. Both daughters will be a mess when that time gets here. I have graduations, weddings and their children being born. I simply can’t miss those times.
So I’ve made a decision. The only possible thing for me to do is to stop doing anything that doesn’t bring me joy. I find that when I’m filled with good feelings, my wrinkles go away. I smile more, thus giving me more wrinkles, but that’s a good thing. I now consider them joy lines and joy bags under my eyes.
I need tons of joy, because I plan to dance until I’m ninety four.
If I stayed out ‘til quarter to four………..Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me?……………………..Will you still feed me when I’m sixty-four?
I sure hope! I have lots of joy ahead………… before I’m ninety four.
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