Today I’m eighty-one. That’s a big number. There’s no denying that eighty-one is old. Yet I try (to deny it, that is).
There’s a big photo of me with our boys on the wall of our study. It was a birthday gift for Peter twenty-nine years ago. I don’t look that different now (with my clothes on at least). I do have more silver in my hair and I am thinner. But I easily recognize me.
I find that the biggest difference in my eighties is that many of my peers have health challenges. So do I. But that’s an incentive to be grateful for every day, and I try to do that.
Sometimes, it’s easier said than done.