Now that I’ve gotten another year older, I can’t help but reflect on the past 53 years since my birth. My how times have changed! I miss not having to count calories, I miss being handsome, and I really miss not getting up in the morning and walking to the kitchen without sounding like I was taking a stroll on packing peanuts. I also miss my mother’s cooking.
When our beloved dog Goldie was approaching her sunset years, she still loved the thrill of the chase; in this case it was squirrels. But due to her advanced age, rather then chase the tree rats a mile, she chose to run just 50 yards and she would quickly return to the front porch. She was content with her memories knowing she used to be the best. No matter the species, the more aged we become it is typical to want to lay down, sit on the front porch and remember the “good old days.”
Some mornings I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. I can’t say I was ever thin, but then again my navel never looked liked it needed a tattoo that reads, “Inflate to 35 psi” either. My once thick head of red hair resembles the first snow of winter; white, sparse, with accompanying bare patches. I chuckle at a magazine article recently that touted, “Red hair never turns gray”, as if white is any better? I see magazines that proclaim “50 is the new 40 or 40 is the new 30”, but I’m not buying it. My 50 is the new 50 and I’m learning as I go.
Now that I’m older I’ve learned I find true contentment for me in the flames of a campfire, the arms of my wife, and in the heart of God. I’ve learned that a car with air conditioning always beats one without heat. I can always put clothes on, but I can’t drive without them. A bowl of cereal will forever trump a gourmet meal if it means I can stay home. And lastly I’m not saying I’m old, but if you still feel bad that you missed sending me a gift, I’m still registered with Crate & Casket.