Most of us slip easily into the waiting niche of middle age when it comes because, silly geese that we are, we haven't calculated correctly. Somewhere in the dreamland of our subconscious we think of ourselves as middle age at around 50-65.
Better give it another think unless you plan to make it to 100 because 55 years under your belt, and everywhere else it can squeeze in, means you already made it to Senior Citizen ship-hood.
When Senior citizen notices began to invade my mailbox with the news that I needed to be on the alert for the best deals in burial plots, health plans and adjustable canes I really wasn't prepared.
Is this it, then? The pinnacle of,"oldness" and all we get is a couple of bucks taken off our breakfast tab at IHops and various and sundry other so-called perks?
Personally, it ticks me off.
And, there is an added insult a title that the rest of the world uses to degrade us even further. You may have used it yourself as a kid when you referred to the ancient couple rocking on their front porch. They were the, "elderly," the really, really old.
Ugh, I hate to say it. Elderly is such a disgusting word--and only one place to go from there. The only partly comforting thing about it is the fact that all those who are working so furiously on their rock-hard, "abs"and their blinding white teeth will find themselves in the same position if they live long enough.
Sadly, I have actually arrived. My diabetic shoes, nearly non-existent, eyelashes, and the notation on my calendar for an appointment to have a cataract removed make it abundantly clear.
Some of you may refer me to God if I have a grievance about His plan, but, I don't, because my Mama
had a point, and a deep, abiding belief that, "The good stuff comes next."
At age 94 she headed out of here with a smile.
God Bless You...