Well, bloggers, today is my final un-birthday of my ...fill in the blanks silently here...year. Tomorrow is, yes, my birthday. Perhaps that's why I've been a little moody today. Or maybe its the gray skies alternating with torrential rain. Whatever. I am very grateful to be alive and, as far as I know, healthy. Aside from allergies and some minor aches and pains, I feel good. I'm blessed by Danny, great grown up kids, Baby Alex, and my canine Mutley Crew. I paid off my mortgage this year, wrote a third book, and I can still afford gasoline for my car. So, what's to complain about? Oh, the numbers, the numbers. They sound so big. If they were a golf score I'd be happy but they are sadly closer to my average bowling score. Ah well, whats an aging boomer to do? Why party and eat cake. And so I shall.
Here's a birthday poem.
REFLECTIONS ON AN IMPENDING BIRTHDAY
Oh, fie on birthdays!
Why must they come so fast?
Old age is breathing down my neck
when youth was s’posed to last.
The print in books is smaller
than I think it used to be.
I have to turn the volume up
when I’m watching my TV.
The numbers on my bathroom scale
have never been so high
To the jeans that used to fit me well
I’ve sadly bid good-bye.
When I gaze into my mirror
lines and wrinkles plainly see.
What happened to the golden girl
that I once used to be?
Perhaps I’ve gained some wisdom
with the passing of the years,
which compensates a little
for a sagging derriere.
I don’t mind growing older.
I’m happy with my state.
I won’t complain that youth is lost.
That’s every mortal’s fate.
I just wish time would slow a bit
present creeping into past
instead of rushing headlong
life’s ending soon forecast.
If I had more time to savor
all the moments that flash by
I think that I might be content
in a hundred years, to die.
by Nancy Wayman Deutsch