Reposted by popular request with permission of Diane (formerly known as ‘The Diane Half of Poppies and Popcorn). Originally posted on Poppies and Popcorn October 23, 2015. Thanks, Diane!
I had a birthday recently, and it was one of those birthdays that really made me stop and think – and maybe panic just a bit. My sixtieth. 60. Me! When the heck did that happen? I think my mom was the most appalled – she wondered how she could possibly be old enough to have a 60-year-old daughter.
There are any number of adages and words of wisdom that I think, are supposed to make me feel better about being “old.” I’ve read that 60 is the new 40 and that this is simply middle age. Well, I remember being 40, and we were still traveling all around on military assignments and I had 2 teenaged daughters. As much as I loved the military and adored my daughters at every age, my 60-year-old life kinda beats my 40-year-old life! And middle age – really? I’m all for longevity, but thinking I won’t make it to 120 – and really, do I want to? I do like the alliteration in the pic above – “Super, sensational and sixty.” I’ll go with that.
I went skydiving for my 50th birthday and my friends and family had a surprise party for me with all of the traditional “You’re officially old” gifts. This recent birthday was a lot more low key and pretty angst-free. The adage that I think is most appropriate is that age is just a number, and I am as old as I decide to be. I still run around with my 6 wonderful grandkids, laugh with my girlfriends (Joyce and I laugh so hard we cry!!), and am always on the watch for new adventures.
I saw a suggestion recently that said instead of calling them years, we should call them levels. Hey, I made to it to Level 60 – pretty impressive, huh?