I am old. I have fought the good fight for eternal youth, but sooner or later the clock catches up. My wrinkle cream no longer works except to moisturize my drying skin. My cosmetic surgery has begun to slide. Celebrities with too many plastic surgeries have fat lips and plastic eyebrows. That’s not for me. Besides, looking younger than you really are confuses people. They expect more than you can do.

I am old. I never thought I could be content inside my warm house looking out the window at the cold and bitter earth. It will claim me soon enough. For now, I am a cat lady seeking solace with my pets. Who ever thought that animals would become my support group?

I thought I would work until I was 100 years old like the elderly people I read about online. They live to work and believe that work contributes to a long life. Work never became my life to the exclusion of everything else. It is not so much the work itself that grinds you down, but the stress of deadlines, projects, and schedules. You know when it is time to let a younger person have the chair you have desperately held on to for so many years.

I am old. I have Social Security and a pension and must learn to live frugally. I have a closet full of dresses that I never wear.  Sweatshirts and sweaters keep me warm. Somehow I always seem to feel a bit chilled, maybe the slowing down of metabolism. My bones ache with arthritis, the curse of old people. I wake up stiff in the mornings and must have coffee and pills to wake up.

I used to think I would love being able to sleep as long as I wanted so I would not be drowsy in the afternoon. But all the years of rising early create a natural biorhythm that still wakes you up at an early hour. I seldom sleep an entire night anyhow. Bones ache, legs cramp, nature calls.

I am a homebody. I plan projects to fill the days and wonder how it was that I ever had time to be out in the world most of the time. How did it all get done, the house cleaned, the food cooked, the errands run and the million other little domestic chores? Was my house dirty or was it that I just didn’t notice?

I have other things to do now: writing, hobbies, and television. An entire day can be filled on Facebook before I even notice that it is gone. Not that it matters, tomorrow will be another day and anything left over can be done then. I never thought I would actually like watching game shows.

I am old. I do not worry about makeup or silver roots showing. Makeup collects in my crinkles anyhow. If I want to go to Wal-Mart, I go. No one looks at an old person. We are ignored. Everyone there in the middle of the day is a senior. They drive around in electric shopping buggies. I am lucky to be able to walk and push a cart without leaning on it.

I accept my old age, more or less. What else can you do? Actually, a rocking chair is quite soothing, despite the stereotype. I am happy that I can care for my own needs, run a household, and have a functioning brain and a body that still works most of the time.

So, I will excuse myself now and get on with other matters. I have cats to feed, papers to sort, birdhouses to paint, and a Lifetime Channel move to watch. I can no longer wait until I retire and have more time.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss