"Grow old along with me!
I am grateful for every day the good Lord has allowed me to live. But, I'm not the one who broadcasts my age. This is not vanity on my part. This is wisdom. I know that as soon as I become the Seasoned Sister, the Mature Maven, the Perfectly Aged Matron, the Dowager Deaconess, there will be those who will then want to put me in that box they have created for "the old folk," and at some point I may begin to accept it as my destiny (rocking chairs, front porches and sweet tea sipped through slipping dentures). Sure, I now call everyone "Dear" and "Sweetie," but that's because I am kind and compassionate. Not because I am old(er)!
I do not understand why as soon as a person hits a certain age, people begin to act as though they have hit some "use by" date and therefore should be discarded..
News Flash, y'all. Until the good Lord says, "Sit down, Donna," the purpose is still in place and as long as I can, I will continue to stand for Him.
It is true. I no longer have the energy I once had, and some things demand just too much of what little I do have, but as long as I can, I will. Yes, there are some things from which I will have to step away from, eventually. But until then, I'm will continue to stay the course. Besides, age is all about mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
At least that's what I've heard!
Besides, I still look good!
One day it hits you like that proverbial ton of bricks.
You are no longer a teenager.
You are no longer a young adult.
You are no longer middle-aged.
More than half your life is behind you.
You could live your life celebrating the fact you are still here.
You could, that is, if America did not work so hard at thumbing its nose at you.
Doing its best to point out that wrinkles and gray roots are anathema.
Wisdom is no longer revered.
Emeritus really means out to pasture.
Pursuits of achievement and awards are relics from the past.
Expectations for more are rooted in yesterday.
Aging in America is too often the death rattle for women.
Wrinkles become the bane of the mirror.
Makeup settles into creases and crevices hitherto unknown.
Eyelashes and eyebrows betray her with gray growth.
Hair thins and arm wings flap.
Body parts that once stood proudly, now sit down, never to stand again without support.
A cougar when she relishes the company of a younger man.
An old fool if she is wealthy.
It is for those who have the courage to age in America without apology!
Come, grow old with me. . .