CHANGLING

My mother told me no one changes after 30. Because of that I panicked and took a hard look at my own life when I reached that age. It helped me to change the direction of my life. By the time I was 45 and she was 78, I was taking care of my mother who had had two strokes. I taught her that anyone can change at any time, and went to work convincing her. She lived another eight years and blossomed as never before. She was a joy to behold. We laughed often.

Here I sit now at not quite seventy, waking up each day as a new person. That sounds poetic. In actuality, it's at best awkward. By noontime I have settled into my new identity, and respond accordingly, often surprising myself, but early mornings have me sitting writing and exploring my changing perspective of life. Intellectually, it makes sense. In order for one to age with wisdom, old thinking has to change. Emotionally it's  "What the heck is going on! I am losing my identity again!"

Instead of finding my shoes in the refrigerator, as happens with some of us as we age, I see more order in my life. I continue to question myself about what I am interested in, and adjust to new interests. Walking what I talk is important. It's also important for me to keep my shoes where it's warm. I hate cold feet!