There are age milestones to every life. They're special, marked either with joy or dread at getting there. Each person's is different, but there's something about 21, 30, 40, 50 and 65 that seem to resonate with a lot of people. I think 65 was important because that was the age when you stopped working, retired, collected a pension and/or Social Security and tried to find something to fill the void where the job used to be. For me, Social Security won't kick in until 66 years and 6 months, an odd government calculation if ever there was one. Yet, 65 still managed to feel like a milestone even though I'm still working. Don't know why, it just did.
There was no fanfare during the day today. Only one card and a few wellwishers calling or texting . No surprise parties, no cake, no event to make the day special. I took the day off because it has been and will continue to be my rule that I don't work on my birthday and I only broke that rule once in my entire working life. Even if nobody else acknowledges my existence and how it's special to have started my existence on this day, I always do.
Sixty-five was the age you were considered OLD. Hair was white (or was colored not to be white), face was wrinkled, bones creaked, muscles ached, things got forgotten. Yet now that I've managed to survive to 65, it doesn't feel old. Oh yeah, hair is salt and pepper, eyes have bags under them that no amount of special pricey serum will make go away, everything hurts off and on, and I constantly lose track of things 30 seconds after I put them down. There are days when I wake up and feel like I'm in my 80s physically. Yet in my mind, I don't feel old. Mentally, I feel like a young adult. Okay, maybe not young. But not old, either. I guess it's really a matter of self-perception,
So why is it new territory? Every birthday is. What, you were expecting more? From me?
