And So I'm 60

Do you feel 60?

Friends ask, both those who know 60 well and those who fear its approach.

And I laugh and tell them it’s just about the same as 59.

And 59 felt good.

Not “climb Mt. Everest” or “swim the English Channel” good (how I admire those women!)

But also not too bad. 

Not drive an electric buggy through Walmart and ask people to reach things from the shelves for me bad.

Not arthritis or COPD or cancer or replaced hips and knees bad.  
So that’s good.

60 feels special. 

More special than driver's-license 16.

More special than go-away-to-college 18.

More special than drunken 21.

And much more special than 31, when I realized that I was now “thirtysomething” and was afraid I’d start whining and sleeping around and questioning all my decisions, just like the characters on the TV show that we watched when we were 25 and couldn’t even imagine turning 31.

60 feels monumental.

My mother died when she was 60.

I’ve been without her for 22 years, and with each and every birthday as I grew closer to 60 I could almost hear the death knell.  Then 50 passed me without cancer, and 55 and now 60.

So I think I should do something special with this 60^th year, which feels like a gift from my mom. 

I have yet to figure out what that special something is.  I’ve done a lot of good things in my life.  Raised three very kind and loving children.  Served on boards and worked at soup kitchens.  Rescued cats and recycled tons of newspapers.  Stayed married for 37 years. Knit afghans for immigrants and tiny hats for NICU babies.  Got stamps on my passport and my name engraved on long-forgotten plaques that probably ended up in a landfill.

I also did three bad things.  But we won’t talk about those.

There are things I want to do in my 60^th year.  Improve my Spanish.  Learn to play the guitar that Clay bought for me when I was 30.  Finish my novel.  Paint.  Read the books in my to-be-read pile and finish the projects in my to-be-finished pile.  Stick to a skin care regime. Re-align my chakras.  Make an authentic paella and master the yeast roll.  

Walk more, sit less.  More water, less coffee.  Fear less, love more.  Think less, feel more. (You know – you’ve seen those self-improvement memes on Pinterest, too, right?)  

But to honor my mom, I’d have to improve my habits.

Eat oatmeal every morning.  

Walk every day.  

Stop cursing.  

Read the Bible and the Guidepost Daily Devotional.  Daily.

Lead a 4-H Club.  

Save money.  

Garden and can 100 quarts of green beans every summer. 
Become just a little bit prudish.  

Go to nursing school and care for the people at the Lutheran Home.  

Cover my mouth and pretend not to be tickled when hearing a joke that’s just a little off-color.

Instead of laughing out loud and asking the joke teller to tell it again, slowly, so I can write it down and tell everyone I know.

I’m not sure if I’ll hit upon the special something before I turn 61, although I think it has something to do with asking more questions and listening more closely. 

Asking the questions I’m sorry I never thought to ask my mom.  

I’ll let you know how it works out.

Peace.