Twenty-eight. It was hard to believe. In many ways she still felt like a teenager--wet behind the ears and timid in her own world. Twenty-eight and she still didn’t really know what she wanted to be when she grew up. Something artistic, she felt. Something creative like a writer or a painter or maybe even a gourmet chef. For now she’d have to settle for meager compositions of grocery lists, sidewalk chalk drawings and meatloaf. One day.
If they were going to leave on time for her birthday “surprise”, she’d have to go ahead and take a shower. As the water heated up, she undressed and looked down at her somewhat unflattering body. For the first time she noticed new spots and blemishes where there once was the perfectly tanned skin of an athletic child, and a few more droops and sags than there seemed to be the day before. It was as if the clock struck her twenty-eighth year and her body instantly changed. She knew it wasn’t true -- that these changes had been in the works for years -- but it sure seemed that way now.
She stepped in the shower and began to think. Twenty-eight. This must be it. This must be the year that you start feeling committed to getting older. Like the day you mail out the invitations for your wedding. It’s really real. It’s really happening. No turning back now. Soon everyone would know that the day is inevitable. Perhaps then thirty-five would feel like the rehearsal dinner, with that same fog and confusion of making sure everything is in order for the big day. So many people in attendance to please and humor, and so many last minute things to do and feel.
Somewhere around forty-eight must be like getting to the church for the pre-wedding pictures. All those nerves churning inside you, all the internal voices nagging you about whether or not you did everything right. Too late to really change things, but a nice time to try and see everything as perfect just the way it is. The stage is set, the people are gathering, and you’re doing your best to hide until the great unveiling.
Then somewhere a little past sixty you walk down that isle in all your finest splendor and say “I do” to old age. The thin veil of sparsely placed grey hair is brushed from your face as your committed groom welcomes you to your place on the altar with a gentle kiss on the cheek. You take his hand and settle in to the idea that everything is happening now, just as you had planned for it to. Though the ring bearer is wiggling against his too-small shoes and the flowers you ordered aren’t exactly what you expected, it’s all perfect. It’s perfect because it’s your time, your life. The only one like it you’ll ever have.
A short time later as you approach your seventies, a bit of confusion hustles its way back into your life as you reach the reception. So many people to greet that you wonder when in your life you ever had time to make so many acquaintances. Once again it’s a slight whirlwind of emotions and time as you pass from person to person receiving their blessings and praise before moving on to the next. All eyes are on you for a moment as you twirl around the dance floor with your new partner in life. Your age is a golden gift in the spotlight to those watching you, seeking to join in your happiness and joy. For this day in time you are the most important thing to everyone there. Each person is there to celebrate you.
Finally, after gathering your things and making sure everything else is taken care of, you rush off to the best part yet: the honeymoon. You’re now seventy-five and it’s time to retire to a quiet, private life with your new spouse. No job to worry about, no expectations to fulfill. Now it’s time to rest and enjoy. It’s finally time to stop and think about all that’s just happened. You laugh at the questions you asked yourself at twenty-eight. You smirk at the time and effort you put into the details at thirty-five, and the resolve you felt at forty-eight to enjoy the results, even if it wasn‘t what you‘d hoped for. You smile as you remember sixty, and try your best to put together all the pieces of conversations you had at seventy. You think of all those people along the way and you want to kiss them and say thank you for being there, but you realize the moment has already passed and you’ll never have it again. Maybe you’ll tell them thanks next week, you decide. Maybe you’ll write them a note.
Then, all too soon it’s time to go home. Only now your home is someplace new, and you’re filled with a wonderfully nervous excitement about going there for the first time. As you close your eyes and lay back for the trip, you have to smile at how oddly safe you feel. Safe because you know you’ll open your eyes again to a new life. And safe because you know it is perfectly right. For this is not the end of one life, but only the beginning of an eternity with your Perfect Match.
So many thoughts to ponder for a mind that had only just become twenty-eight. April stepped out of the shower and thought back to the day she had spent addressing the invitations to their wedding. She remembered the anxiety and the questions, but then she allowed herself to also remember the unexplainable peace she felt as the last envelope slipped into the outgoing mailbox at the post office. That was the feeling she wanted to hold on to today. That peace of knowing that she wasn’t slowly grinding to a halt as some described the feeling of getting older, but that she was embarking on a wonderful new journey that had so much more in store for her. She walked to her closet to pick out some comfortable clothes and couldn’t help but smile as a picture from her wedding day caught her eye from the top of the dresser. It was going to be a good day.
If they were going to leave on time for her birthday “surprise”, she’d have to go ahead and take a shower. As the water heated up, she undressed and looked down at her somewhat unflattering body. For the first time she noticed new spots and blemishes where there once was the perfectly tanned skin of an athletic child, and a few more droops and sags than there seemed to be the day before. It was as if the clock struck her twenty-eighth year and her body instantly changed. She knew it wasn’t true -- that these changes had been in the works for years -- but it sure seemed that way now.
She stepped in the shower and began to think. Twenty-eight. This must be it. This must be the year that you start feeling committed to getting older. Like the day you mail out the invitations for your wedding. It’s really real. It’s really happening. No turning back now. Soon everyone would know that the day is inevitable. Perhaps then thirty-five would feel like the rehearsal dinner, with that same fog and confusion of making sure everything is in order for the big day. So many people in attendance to please and humor, and so many last minute things to do and feel.
Somewhere around forty-eight must be like getting to the church for the pre-wedding pictures. All those nerves churning inside you, all the internal voices nagging you about whether or not you did everything right. Too late to really change things, but a nice time to try and see everything as perfect just the way it is. The stage is set, the people are gathering, and you’re doing your best to hide until the great unveiling.
Then somewhere a little past sixty you walk down that isle in all your finest splendor and say “I do” to old age. The thin veil of sparsely placed grey hair is brushed from your face as your committed groom welcomes you to your place on the altar with a gentle kiss on the cheek. You take his hand and settle in to the idea that everything is happening now, just as you had planned for it to. Though the ring bearer is wiggling against his too-small shoes and the flowers you ordered aren’t exactly what you expected, it’s all perfect. It’s perfect because it’s your time, your life. The only one like it you’ll ever have.
A short time later as you approach your seventies, a bit of confusion hustles its way back into your life as you reach the reception. So many people to greet that you wonder when in your life you ever had time to make so many acquaintances. Once again it’s a slight whirlwind of emotions and time as you pass from person to person receiving their blessings and praise before moving on to the next. All eyes are on you for a moment as you twirl around the dance floor with your new partner in life. Your age is a golden gift in the spotlight to those watching you, seeking to join in your happiness and joy. For this day in time you are the most important thing to everyone there. Each person is there to celebrate you.
Finally, after gathering your things and making sure everything else is taken care of, you rush off to the best part yet: the honeymoon. You’re now seventy-five and it’s time to retire to a quiet, private life with your new spouse. No job to worry about, no expectations to fulfill. Now it’s time to rest and enjoy. It’s finally time to stop and think about all that’s just happened. You laugh at the questions you asked yourself at twenty-eight. You smirk at the time and effort you put into the details at thirty-five, and the resolve you felt at forty-eight to enjoy the results, even if it wasn‘t what you‘d hoped for. You smile as you remember sixty, and try your best to put together all the pieces of conversations you had at seventy. You think of all those people along the way and you want to kiss them and say thank you for being there, but you realize the moment has already passed and you’ll never have it again. Maybe you’ll tell them thanks next week, you decide. Maybe you’ll write them a note.
Then, all too soon it’s time to go home. Only now your home is someplace new, and you’re filled with a wonderfully nervous excitement about going there for the first time. As you close your eyes and lay back for the trip, you have to smile at how oddly safe you feel. Safe because you know you’ll open your eyes again to a new life. And safe because you know it is perfectly right. For this is not the end of one life, but only the beginning of an eternity with your Perfect Match.
So many thoughts to ponder for a mind that had only just become twenty-eight. April stepped out of the shower and thought back to the day she had spent addressing the invitations to their wedding. She remembered the anxiety and the questions, but then she allowed herself to also remember the unexplainable peace she felt as the last envelope slipped into the outgoing mailbox at the post office. That was the feeling she wanted to hold on to today. That peace of knowing that she wasn’t slowly grinding to a halt as some described the feeling of getting older, but that she was embarking on a wonderful new journey that had so much more in store for her. She walked to her closet to pick out some comfortable clothes and couldn’t help but smile as a picture from her wedding day caught her eye from the top of the dresser. It was going to be a good day.
1 comment:
what a wonderful story!!!!!!!!
Post a Comment