Stumbling

I used to describe those who had “gotten-on-in-years” as tottering. I felt a bit sorry for them and their ambulatory difficulties. It was frustrating to ‘move at their pace’ sometimes. I even silently thanked the LORD that I wasn’t like that. When young, we think, “I will never get like that”.  As age sets in and things slow down, we look at people and think about the same way, even though we did get there. There is a time when we become interested in ‘miracle’ cures for wrinkles, stiff joints, gray hair and incontinence. Once, while playing  the role of an older man, Ia beautician attempted to ‘gray’ my hair, but somehow it didn’t take. While on tour, I let our company beauty expert give me a permanent. That has happened only once. I looked at myself and came close to tears. I knew then that I would never play the role of Curly McLain.  I looked ridiculous. Thank the Good Lord, my hair grows very fast. When, after the attempt to bleach my hair failed, we resorted to shoe whitener. The lady who did the job said, “You are going to be a very handsome older gentleman”.  That also didn’t come to pass. Yesterday, I went to IHOP with a friend and we had trouble exiting a Sentra; the curb had gotten higher, we asked for a table and needed help getting up after our meal. As we were moving among the other tables while exiting, we were tottering, that Sentra had gotten closer to the pavement in the short time we were inside and  the seat belt had been moved further back. My friend had difficulty looking back to see that there was no car coming so we could back out of our handicap parking space. She asked me where to turn off highway 121 to get back to my house and when we got to my street, she went past and we had to turn around. We were so happy to get to the right address, we just kinda sat there and enjoyed the moment. That doggone front door to the Sentra had gotten smaller and the curb had grown another six inches. I couldn’t stop to thank her once I got into motion and stumbled on the two-inch rise from the walk to the porch. I couldn’t find the house key and finally, to both our relief, I got the much heavier front door open and tottered in. I turned and stiffly waved to my friend and she had difficulty turning her head to see if there was a car coming before pulling away from the much higher curb. My mother, at the age of 90, was ready to “go” anytime. I, at the age of 85, am happy to “stay”. Retirement has it’s attraction, but just like the rising cost of a movie ticket, there is a price to pay. I awakened this morning and gathered my self to get out of bed to totter to the bathroom (thankful that I hadn’t had that call in the middle of the night) and stumble down the hall to get to the kitchen counter and wonder what I was there for. It was a second before I remembered my morning cup of coffee. Remind me to send a thank you note to Keurig. I am not complaining. I do enjoy getting older since there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I am counting on the fact that GOD will greet me in the new body HE promised. I have company this morning ’cause my Aggies stumbled and flopped around last night in new and improved Kyle Field. The thumb is at half-mast this morning. That’s what I get from My Box of Chocolates.     AMEN

 

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