I Am Fifty

I am Fifty. Well, almost. Officially, I have a little over two more weeks of “youth!” At fifty, I will hardly be middle-aged. A crisis then, at this time, would not be appropriate. I should be elated as I have moved up the ladder of life! I’ve moved up a grouping, so to speak. But am I elderly? I think not, but sometimes, it’s the little things that make me feel that way.

I don’t feel elderly, most of the time. Except when I go to the State Highway Administration meeting on the expansion of Route 15 and they talk about the thirty year growth plan. In thirty years, I will most certainly be elderly. If I make it that long! When they talked about the plan, I felt old.

Each spring, as we purchase our new flowers and bring out the patio furniture, I feel youthful. I get excited about setting up our backyard living space, and I look forward to the beautiful colors the flowers will bring and the festivities of summer. But at the end of a day of yard work and planting, I feel elderly. My muscles and my joints tell me that I am not as youthful as I would like to believe.

Every eight weeks, when those gray roots start popping back and I have to head to Baltimore to the salon to have my roots “treated,” I feel a bit over the hill. As I leave the salon, people always comment on how nice my hair looks. I feel youthful! But when my students look at the pictures on my desk and say “Look, Mrs. Jarman, your hair wasn’t blond in this picture.” No, I think to myself, that was way before the gray set in. Sometimes, in moments like that, I feel older.

I love to sport around in my little sports car. That car came just before I turned forty-seven. A bit of a mid-life crisis, if you will. I wanted to abandon sedans and anything that looked remotely like a “family” car. My children were grown and moving out of the house. It was time to celebrate with a two door sports car. Well, every now and then, when I try to climb out of my beloved little car, my knees stiffen up a bit. It’s then that I don’t feel as spry as I used to.

When my husband and I go ballroom dancing on a Saturday night, we are youthful as we leave the house all spruced up for an evening of dance. Dating my husband is such fun and I feel like a young girl! We hurry out to the dance floor to try out new steps learned in our lessons. But on the drive home, after I have removed my dancing shoes and am rubbing my feet, I don’t feel quite so youthful.

It’s during moments like these that I sometimes think about wine, and how a wine ages to gain a full body flavor. Perhaps I’m in that aging process, still fermenting…and gaining a full body! But I’m becoming a richer person. Those lines I see appearing around my eyes are hopefully telling the story of a person who gets great joy out of life, who enjoys what she is doing and the people around her. It’s those little things that are making be think that fifty could be pretty nifty.