With intention, I walk into the laundry room to get what was it now,
Let’s see, looking around ~ I know it will come to me somehow.
I’ll resolve this, so back to the kitchen, I carefully retrace my path,
It strikes me, I need some bleach, its like solving a problem in math.
Every morning I gather the newspaper and sit down to have a read,
Eagerly I open the paper, now where are the reading glasses I need.
After searching countertops, tables and finally deep inside my purse
I find my multi-coloured magnifying glasses as I give out a quiet curse.
I seem to be tired all the time but when I hit the bed I just can’t sleep,
Finally I drift off after a soothing bath, sipping hot milk and counting sheep.
No sooner I’m asleep when the pain becomes so intense, again I’m awake,
My hip hurts, my shoulder aches ~ oh someone shoot me for pity’s sake.
My conversations don’t include the word old any more because that’s me,
Feeling young but according to Denny’s I am a senior, in the upper category!
Caught in limbo with age, it seems somewhere between heaven and hell,
Pay full price for the bus and a movie, but I can eat for less at Taco Bell.
My knowledge and skills lose their relevance to my ever independent kids,
Along the way we’ve switched from teacher to student, we’ve changed grids.
Now retired I have time to walk and exercise but my joints limit the amount,
My metabolism has really changed, seems all food has a triple caloric count.
Are there benefits to being a senior, having to take drugs, I don’t condone,
Maybe being able to watch my family grow and mature with lives of their own
Because now, I am the storyteller, keeping the traditions of our family alive,
The elder who outlines what we stand for, guiding our history as we thrive.
Written July 28, 2012
For Nancy Jones’ contest
This is how life feels when you get to be my age