As I step ever so lightly toward another birthday this week, the one that
comes "after" the milestone one we all remember our parents getting to. I am
reminded again of how very different perceptions of youth, not to mention
birthdays can be.
I honestly donβt think about growing older. I donβt think I would trade all
that I have learned, for the chance to go back and relive it. Besides, Iβve far
too many adventures ahead of me yet to want to return to the blossom of my
youth.
Nevertheless, to each his/her own; though we joke about it, I have a dear
friend (who looks much younger than I look, but is, only by a month and killer
genes, Iβm guessing) who has made me swear I must never allow her to be placed
in a nursing home. She claims *GASP-those are for old people. She isnβt going
to get old. Given that, I should never have to worry seeing her in a home for
the aged, since she never plans to be old. Her humor and attitude though, is
what I admire and emulate. We see ourselves as an aging Thelma and Louise,
making our spur of the moment road trips, creating havoc wherever we go, and
enjoying the ride. (Our husbands, btw, just shake their heads and offer wry
smiles.)
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