The Land of Old Age

It was not until I had my devastating fall several months ago that I realized I am old. I have been growing old—getting old—but this is different. It is like living in a foreign country. I have visited there, known persons from there, but now it is my environment, the territory I will inhabit.

This new stage of life is so rich in new perceptions that they cannot be transmitted to those at another stage. This is one of the perks of living at Brandermill Woods. We understand what it is to not quite get all that we hear.

I am constantly astonished by what is different from anything that has gone before. Astonishment by not being able to move fast or walk steadily. Actually I am very tottery. When I was younger I had no patience with old people whose slowness held up lines and clogged sidewalks. (The chickens have come home to roost from such and attitude.)

There is new awareness now of my body. My mind wills my arm to move but it stubbornly refuses to budge. I am helpless against such defiance. Who is in charge here?

The answer I think is Time. It’s terrible how time eats us up.

As in moving to any new location in our lives we must find our place. How shall I live here, the the land of Old Age. How will I actualize my life now?