Things That Remind Me

I'm comfortable with being old. I like having a huge quiver of memories to carry around, that our house is long paid for, that I can always go to bed and get up when I want to, that I have family and friends who fill my heart's places. Regardless of how often I write about it, I don't spend my days being an old person; I spend them doing what I want. Unless I walk past a mirror (which I don't do on purpose) or try to fasten my own necklaces (which I can't) I feel the same as I always have.

But then something comes along and reminds me.

My laptop is sort of old. Not ancient, and it hasn't stopped working, but it hiccups sometimes, and ctrl-alt-delete is my friend more often than I like. So occasionally I look at new ones and realize I probably won't be writing long enough to need one. Even if I am, I can write at home on the desktop, or maybe even write longhand in one of the plethora of notebooks I always have with me. There's nothing that says I can't buy a new laptop, but why would I when I can so easily spend that money on prescriptions, buying things I forget I already have, and gas money for medical appointments?

Another reminder of age is the knee, that knobby joint between the hip and the ankle. I might be a little overly proud of the fact that I have the only original knees in our house. While I can't kneel on them--rather, I can't get up from kneeling on them--they also don't hurt very often. But yesterday, just when I least expected it, I got up from my recliner and my left knee gave way. Completely. It was as if there was nothing inside that knobbiness but empty air. It didn't last long and it didn't hurt, but it did make me wonder if one of my septuagenarian knees had gone to heaven ahead of time.

I am reminded by loss. By the undeniable fact that large parts of social lives are medical appointments. By an inability to find the words I want when I want them. By growing invisibility.

This week, when I was a backup member of a spelling team at the Peru Rotary Club Annual Spellathon, I was reminded that I can't spell as well now as I could even five years ago. (Although I can spell shiitake, which I think is downright remarkable.)

The Warrior Wordles: Katelin Calfee, Jennifer Schindler-Smith, Kari Wilson, Me, Megan Hoover

But, guess what. We had a good time. We placed second to a team that knew how to spell khmer ... yeah, really. Can you believe it? They were so good!

And this week's post isn't ending up how I intended. That happens so often. I was doing all this talking about being reminded of age and it took me until now to realize that's not what I want to say at all. Because the truth is, I doubt anyone but me cares how old I am. The teachers who asked me to be a backup on their team didn't ask because of or despite the fact that I'm old. They likely asked because I was Kari Wilson's mom, but they didn't hold that against me, either.

The point then, isn't being old at all. It's okay to know it, to cater to it sometimes, to laugh about it a lot, but it's important that we not be owned by it. Because we are all so much more than just our age.

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.