Lost in Space
Years ago, when I was small and before I could walk, I wore a brace on one of my legs. I have no recollection of this, but my mother told me I could maneuver without hindrance, and nothing limited my activity. I was a resilient child who did not have to wear the brace for a long time.
Before long, I learned to walk, run, and dance, rarely hesitating to try new things. As I grew, life presented opportunities to express my spirited self, including cheerleading, choral singing, and writing for my high school newspaper. I enjoyed performing in variety shows and theater productions, aware that I was not the best, but good enough to contribute and celebrate the music.
During my junior year in college, I met a handsome senior student who charmed me with his guitar and charisma, and I took a chance at marriage. Soon afterward, I ventured into motherhood where life quickly became delightfully full and comfortably familiar, even if not always exciting or exotic. Raising a family was a marvelous challenge and I accepted it with passion and humor for four decades.
When my youngest child was four years old, I issued myself a challenge by heading back to the classroom to finish my bachelor’s degree. The demands of juggling courses while still raising children launched me into the second half of my life but I took off and touched down with barely a hitch. When I turned fifty, I coined the looming decade my BLASTOFF! years with the mantra, “I had three children in my 20’s, two in my 30’s, and only one in my 40’s… the 50’s are my blastoff years.”
Well, now that I am in my 60’s, I am lost in space. This senior citizen business is more of a struggle than anything I previously experienced. I am trying to embrace the burdens and concerns of aging, including my changing face and body, but living gracefully and gratefully demands more from me than I would like.
In the over two billion seconds I have lived on this planet, I danced in the rain, played in the mud, and ran with scissors. Nowadays, my way of moving forward and living boldly is to sip back and relax with a new tea flavor or experiment with an alternative form of yoga. I do not know how many days I have left on this earth, only that there is not enough time to waste counting them.
I liken my soul to an old structure, though one that is not yet in ruin. While it may be too late to invent a new me, I can at least respect my memories, even those that bring me great pain. I refuse to become a victim of What If Syndrome by repeatedly asking myself, “What if I would have…?” or “What if I can’t…?”
Instead, I recline with my lazy boy, rocking on from one retired day to another. There’s still considerable drama within me, so I entertain anytime I can get away with it. Nowadays, my main audience is my fellow senior fellow, my super-busy grownup babies, a rocketing number of grandkids, and anyone who is reading this.
Neil Armstrong said, “Shoot for the stars but if you happen to miss shoot for the moon instead.” Ten years after I was born, he took one small step on that lunar surface and one giant leap into the hearts of Americans. In my countless small steps and a finite number of heartbeats, I cannot gauge any stellar influence I have had on the universe and those who dwell in it but being lost in space bestows me a wealth of sky to explore before I reach heaven.
