Seventy used to be considered old. To those under fifty, it probably still is. But at seventy-one, I don't feel I'm old, at least not very old.

I feel young

• when I am on my bicycle.
• when I think of my wonderful Aunt Ruth who is 94 and going strong.
• on Facebook.
• when I think about all the things I look forward to.

   

I feel old

• when Peter reminds me that he had a job during high school delivering telegrams. (Have our kids ever seen a telegram?)
• on the beach in Rio in my one-piece bathing suit.
• because my knees won't let me jog anymore.
• when I realize that I spend most of my time with people who were not born when John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

Sometimes I feel old; sometimes I feel young.

But I always feel lucky.