Generating its own heat, skunk cabbage remains reliably in sync with my calendar expectations.
Septuagenarian birthdays are naturally contradictory. As I enter 72, I am extremely grateful for all that I have, my health, my stability, my family, my history, an infinite list of blessings on the scroll of life. Yet each year, sometimes subtly, sometimes with loud gongs, I am less than I was. I have never been one to pretend, and today I am much less energetic and focused than even a short decade ago.
People tell me not to worry about it. After all, most of our political leaders, many of our industrial leaders, a lot of our cultural leaders are my age. Aren’t they doing just fine. Well, no, actually. A culture headed by geriatrics frightens me.
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Tiny bits of green grace this hidden woodland, otherwise a wintry view.
I am in most ways more free than I have ever been. My responsibilities have grown up and moved into their own lives, my only ambitions for our house is that it not fall down on us for a decade or so. I spend time sitting, and talking, and puttering around, and am very happy.
But I am going nowhere. I am as free as a tree rather than as a bird. Nothing wrong with contemplation and remembrance and gratitude, I tell myself. Even if I am doing those things more because I tire easily and ache afterwards than for any noble reason.
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Pussy willows have moved right along their inexorable path, unnoticed by rushing traffic.
Well, the adage goes, consider the alternatives. Oh, I do. Because they loom over the next day, or next month, or next season, or next birthday. It is hard to escape wondering if each twinge or momentary pang is not a signifier of something worse. Over 70, I think a lot of people become natural hypochondriacs, often with reason.
Spring cures a lot. At least for a while everything is full of energy and beauty and it is easy to feel rejuvenated with the rest of nature. Having a birthday near the beginning of April is nice. All I need to learn is to simply accept cycles and changes as do the daffodils and crocuses and arriving robins, and frolicking squirrels. Just another bit of life on a magnificent planet.
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 