Gratitude and Abundance

Age 64

…there will always be endless opportunities for adventure, no matter what your age.

“When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine…
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four…”

Ah, the memories that song conjures up! I remember hearing it for the first time as a pre-teen, shortly after The Beatles released it in 1967. And I remember thinking, in a detached sort of way, that I hoped to feel the way that song expressed when I reached the ripe old age of 64. And what a ripe old age that seemed to be! The notion of being 64 conjured up images of a stooped over old lady, gray hair pinned back in a sensible bun, glasses perched at the end of her nose. No doubt, there was a knitting basket by her side as she spent time in her rocking chair with her equally aged husband. And as the song promised, there would be grandchildren nearby, a garden to putter in, and the steadfast love of a devoted partner. All seemed rather sweet, but also sad, as this quaint vision spoke to a life nearing its end. It was a catchy tune and I enjoyed singing along when it played on the radio, but in all honesty, the sentiment of that song seemed completely unrelatable at the time. I was young, The Beatles were young, and I really couldn’t imagine myself as an “old person”. The years of my youth seemed to stretch endlessly before me.

But alas – as we all know – youth is fleeting. And, despite my best efforts at slowing down the passage of time, I have now arrived at that impossible, magical age of 64. And I have discovered, quite surprisingly, that the vision laid out in The Beatles’ song (or in my mind) could not have been further from the truth, at least for me.

For starters, I really don’t feel old. Instead of spending my days in a rocking chair, I choose to lace up my sneakers and start the day with a run. Instead of a knitting basket, I generally wield a “to do” list, chipping away at multiple projects at home and at work. Alternatively, I might be found venturing out on a hike, or visiting a winery with friends, or planning my next exotic travel adventure, or striking a yoga pose. As for the hair and glasses, well, no sensible buns for me! Or gray hair either, for that matter (although a bit of extra maintenance is now required). And although the reading glasses are part of my current reality, I’m usually losing them anyway, so they rarely sit perched at the end of my nose.

As I stand here on that nebulous threshold between mid-life and old age, coming to terms with the realization that more years of my life are now behind me than stand in front of me, how do I really feel? Who am I at 64? And how does life differ for me from the song?

It’s surprising, really. In truth, I probably feel better now than I did in my 30’s, when I was juggling the demands of a full-time job, a husband, and two young children – and running myself ragged in the process. I’m healthy, I’m active, and thankfully, I don’t feel even the slightest ache or pain. In fact, there are days when I look in the mirror and genuinely have a hard time believing that the woman in my reflection is in her 60’s. It’s not necessarily because I look that young (although I certainly don’t think I look “my age” – whatever that means), but it’s because the person staring back at me is the same person I’ve always been. The little girl who was always seeking to please is still in there, as is the somewhat rebellious teenager, the serious college student, the loving wife and mother, and the compassionate and loyal friend. To be sure, I have gained copious amounts of wisdom and experience along the way, and those experiences have helped shape me, but life’s joys and accomplishments, along with its tragedies and disappointments, have only added to the measure of the person that I am today. And that person is strong, confident, and resilient; still learning, still doing, still hopeful, and still open to the possibilities that each day brings. It’s the same me, only better.

But as I take stock, I am also cognizant of the fact that I have lived a life of privilege, rich in love and experiences, and for that I am profoundly grateful. I may have suffered my share of tragedies and loss – most notably losing my husband, brother, and parents over a decade ago – but I am thankful for the many wonderful years that I had with them, and for the new opportunities that are now open to me to create a new chapter in my life. I don’t plan to squander that. I may no longer have that loving partner by my side, “needing and feeding” me, as it were, but I remain hopeful at the prospect of a new love to come. So, who am I now? I am a 64-year-old woman who still goes out on dates, and who gets that rush of butterflies when I meet an interesting man. I am a 64-year-old woman who believes you’re never too old to try something new, and who recently decided to go back to school and start a new career. I am a 64-year-old woman who is still making new friends (while treasuring the old), still learning new things, and still seeking ways to serve and be useful. I am a 64-year- old woman who no longer has time for phoniness and status-seeking, for unnecessary drama, and for friendships that aren’t genuine. I am a 64-year-old woman who has a bucket-list of travel adventures yet to complete, weddings yet to attend, and grandchildren yet to meet. And yes, I am a 64-year-old woman who still has a desire to putter in the garden and sit by the fire with a good book. I am, more than ever, mindful that life is precious and I am thankful for each day.

If I have learned anything along the way, it’s this:

Now is the time for belly laughs
For appreciating a beautiful sunset
For cleaning out closets and purging all the unnecessary “stuff”
that weighs us down
For using the good china
For letting go of grudges
For reaching out to an old friend
For forgiveness – of yourself and others
For doing good wherever you can
And for recognizing that our days are no longer in infinite supply

I have learned that life is what you make of it, that joy can be found in the smallest moment, and that there will always be endless opportunities for adventure, no matter what your age. But more than anything, I have learned that 64 is a time for slowing down and taking stock, for making peace with impermanence, and for savoring the sweetness of the moment.  Because this moment, right now, is all that is certain.  

And that, in the end, is enough.