Happy Tuesday Greetings!
I happened to have the most delightful of meetings yesterday with an old (and by “old,” I mean “had a long time”) friend. I visited my son Teddy and his girlfriend, Kate, in St. Augustine. We had a great time. And it just so happens that a good friend of mine lives about an hour south of them. We made plans to meet for lunch as I traveled back down to South Florida.
Denise and I have been friends for about 24 years. Our youngest boys were together in the first grade and became friends, and so did we. Her family moved away several years ago, but we have kept in touch and get to see each other occasionally. Something Denise said yesterday over her turkey wrap and my lentil soup made me say a hearty “AMEN!” and thus, this newsletter was born.
We were comparing aging stories, as people our age are prone to do. She said something about not liking her neck, and I chimed in with an, “I know, right?? When did this all happen to us?!”
Before I tell you her answer, let me tell you that I have recently pondered: When exactly was it that things started to slide in a downward direction? Oh, sure, we’re aging all along, but it seems to be happening faster lately. On my last birthday, I turned 63, and I had concluded that that is the age when all elasticity goes away.
Enter my friend Denise.
We were enjoying our lunch and talking about our hair and necks when she said something like this: “You know, I didn’t mind turning 40, or 50, or even 60, but I decided the age where it all really starts to go is 63.”
63!
That’s precisely what I’d concluded, separate from her deduction! So may this be a warning to you: if you are still a youthful 62 or less, enjoy! 63 is coming, people!
This reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago when I was still a relatively young 58-year-old. And I thought I was “old” then! To that, I say, “Pishposh! You didn’t know how good you had it!”
Here you go . . .
I Looked Better Yesterday
By Patti Thomas
‘Twas near the start of 2019,
the year my body went to seed,
the bloom completely off my rose,
no longer could I reach my toes.
Each morning I still fix my hair,
And place some blush on cheeks still there,
Add mascara to my eyes,
And then, stand back to analyze,
“Not too bad!” I proudly spake,
Grab my phone and photo take,
I smile and tip my head just so,
Suck in my gut, and ready, Go!
I check the image I have there
With rouge-y cheeks and fluffed-up hair,
But to my horror, I do find,
A stranger of another kind,
When did those wrinkles there appear?
Wasn’t I just smooth last year?
What of those bags around my eyes?
But wait, more baggage on my thighs!
Don’t get me started on my neck,
Quick, grab a scarf to cover the wreck!
Go lower still, and what will one see?
“The girls” have dropped substantially.
The arms that carried three small tots
Are weaker now with crepey spots,
They once were strong and well-defined,
But they’ve grown spindlier with time.
Alas! My a$$, what can I say?
It was much firmer yesterday.
It seems to me it’s sunken in
And yet, I look on with chagrin.
My feet were lovely at one time,
Many hills I once could climb,
But now two bunions there did grow
And did I mention hammertoe?
Perhaps the most complexing riddle,
Is where on earth did go my middle?
I think I feel the most disgraced
About what happened to my waist.
But I’m alive, and some are not,
So I am thankful for what I’ve got,
Yes, things hurt and creak and pop
And I would like that all to stop.
Yet stopping means that I’d be dead,
A coffin’s where I’d lay my head,
My friends would look and see me there
And comment on my clothes and hair:
“I heard she paid some extra money,
To make her skin look smooth as honey.”
She looks real good,” one just might say,
“but she looked better yesterday.”
Wrinkles? Lines? And extra skin?
Just love the place you live within,
You can’t go back, don’t be a regretter,
For youth is good, but “older” is better.
I added that last verse to end on a more positive note. After all, these notes to you are meant to encourage, not do the opposite.
Wrinkles? Crinkles? Saggage? Baggage? Lord willing (and the creek doesn’t rise), we will all get them. If we are blessed enough to wake each day with breath in our lungs, we are blessed enough.
Be blessed this week, my friend! I will be extra blessed because more dear friends are headed south. We will have friends with us next week when I usually send out this email, so I will skip next week and write again on March 5.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
Me and Denise after our lunch. The sign on the store behind us says it perfectly. XO
“Remember that life’s most valuable antiques are dear old friends.”
H. Jackson Brown, Jr.