As I pull up to the TV with some snacks and a drink, ready to check e-mail and 'watch' Biggest Loser, I reflect on my day. Today, I turned 60. The house is redolent with the sweet scent of floral bouquets, lovingly sent by family members to mark my big day. I am reminded of a funeral parlour...but... the drama of Biggest Loser and the beauty of the flowers snap me back to reality.
At 60, I now have a legitimate excuse for failing eyesight, faulty memory, and frequent flatulence. I can hide my own Easter eggs, and repeatedly enjoy the same joke. In only five years, I will collect the OLD AGE pension (if our government doesn't move the target date farther out). My reluctant joints, thickening middle, and grey hair are daily reminders that I have reached 'a certain age'. Hubby and I can no longer refer to ourselves as 'middle aged', since it is unlikely that we will live to be 120.
Our children are approaching middle age, and our grandchildren are growing strong. Mom and Dad are in the last half of their eighties. Who thought I would ever find myself here - smack dab in the September of my life?
Who indeed! This is the 15th anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. In 1997, I didn't know whether I would live to see my children become adults, to see grandchildren born, or to glide with my dear parents into our later years. Am I worried about my sagging neck or crows feet? Delighted, no, but not worried. I have the richness of life experience I could not have gained any other way except with the passage of time. I am surrounded by a loving family and many friends who delight me every day. My career is spiralling in very interesting directions. I love life, and so far, I love being 60!