Sometimes I Feel Like a Piece of Bologna

Age—A Matter of Perspective

My mom turns 90 on Sunday. That’s quite a milestone. Not only that, she’s still reasonably healthy. In fact, she still drives and runs errands for the “old people.” Yes, I drive with her every time I'm there, and I'm still comfortable with her driving skills.

It’s interesting to me how differently we look at things. She looks at her wrinkled and bruised skin and disdains it. I think she looks pretty good for 90. She gets upset that she’s a bit unstable on her feet and tires so easily. I'm amazed at how much she does in a day. She worries about having enough money. I ask what she’s saving it for – her old age?

On the other hand, I guard her far more carefully than she guards herself. I try to help her in ways she doesn’t want or need. When I was in high school and college, I thought she was so old. As I've been looking back at photos in preparation for her birthday party, I'm astounded at how young she looked. In fact, she was quite a looker.

Awhile back, when we were helping Son and DIL with painting their kitchen, Son kept “taking care” of me. He worried about my stamina (and he was right…). At one point I asked him point blank, “Do you think we’re old?” He hesitated, then said, “Well, yeah…” I was a little startled, but I understood what he meant. From his perspective, Mom and Dad are old. From my perspective, we’re still 35.

I'm sure Mom feels the same way. She may be 90, but she still thinks she’s 50 and can’t figure out why her body doesn’t cooperate. I can relate…

Photo Courtesy of flickr.com/ncalzas

Labels: age, aging, stamina