Still Settling Into 70

And I’m about to turn 71!

I am about ready to turn 71 in April and am still trying to settle into having turned 70. 

What is it about that number? 

70 is a number that cannot be denied as old. As aging. As now being an elder.

I don’t feel 70, whatever that means. When I look in the mirror, though, I see a different face than the one that I see reflected in my internal mirror. I am still at times a bit shocked. Who is that? When did she take over my face and body? I don’t remember that happening. 

My 50s felt like I was still vibrant and youngish. My 60s still felt somewhat that way as well, although a bit further along the road than my 50s. 

But 70… Seventy! 7 decades. Friends dying around me more frequently. More funerals than weddings these days. Now being old enough to be someone’s grandmother rather than their mother. Not having had children of my own, this idea of being old enough to be a grandmother still can come as a bit of a shock to me. 

70. Years ago when I thought about 70, I thought that was really old.

It’s old, yes, but somehow, I don’t feel really old. Well, maybe sometimes I get more of a glimpse of that these days. When I get up after sitting for a while, when I wake up and the speed (or lack thereof) with which I initially move around. My taking naps in front of the tv whether I intended to or not.

I am creakier, stiffer, slower in some cases, unable to do things automatically without thinking about them like I did before (how badly do I need that item that I just dropped onto the floor?). 

I forget things, misplace things, sometimes confuse things (like recently thinking that a zoom class started at noon rather than 11 and showing up at the very end of the class). 

Rereading a book as if I never read it before.

I dress for comfort, especially with my shoes. Fashion has become a non-thing for me. I admire those who still make wonderful fashion statements as elders. They look wonderful. That’s not me. I just make sure that everything that needs to be covered is covered before I leave the house. 

I decide where to hike based on whether there are restrooms along the way on the hike. Priorities change. 

I now have pill boxes to help me remember if I took everything that I was supposed to on that day. Some of them are supplements, but some are meds that need to be taken daily, like blood pressure and cholesterol meds. 

I see a very different weight on the scale these days when I rarely get on the dreaded thing. Numbers from my past shall not be seen again, even if I am able to lose some pounds.

They measured my height not too long ago at the doctor’s office. I can’t seem to lose pounds, but I have managed to lose 1.5 inches. What?!!

My skin doesn’t bounce back like it used to. When I do manage to lose a bit of weight, I see something different these days. My skin seems to want to keep the space open for the weight, should it return.

Going out to dinner with a friend who is younger than I. She talks about having looked around the room to see if there were any possible available men. That idea never even occurred to me. That ship has sailed. And mostly, I am comfortable with that and with my own company. 

Having reading glasses in every room and now in every purse. Because I can’t read the small print without them. Being excited when I find tiny little reading glasses that can fit into tiny little purses. The small joys. 

Regular hearing aid appointments.

Knees that talk to me when once they were silent and taken for granted. My body now has its own symphony of creaks and clicks. 

Stopping when hiking up a hill to catch my breath. Monitoring my breathing and heart rate. 

Reminding myself to keep moving regularly throughout the day. This was not something that I even had to think about when younger, when I moved about naturally all day long. 

Trying to figure out what might be important to tell the doctor and what are simply symptoms of aging. I have never been here before, so it’s all new. 

Early dinner, early bedtime. Home by dark, usually. Some of this is because the crime rate has gone up where I live, but I also suspect that wouldn’t have had such an effect on me years ago. 

Not liking to drive at night anymore.

Getting ads about funeral arrangements and such, not so much about fun vacations.

Being invisible to others, especially men. No longer holding any interest for them. No longer seen. No longer desired. 

But there are other things that I notice too.

Slowing down more to notice the things that I took for granted and that now hold such beauty for me. Birds taking a bath in my back yard. Friends greeting each other with open arms. Smiles from the staff at the cafe, or at the grocery store. Cafe owners asking me where I have been if they haven’t seen me for a while.

Not sweating the small stuff. Things that used to upset me are not important anymore. I speak my mind and then move on. I sometimes make the decision to wish a person well, but no longer have them in my life. I get to make that choice.

Not caring if everyone likes or approves of me. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Cherishing time with friends with the realization that each moment is precious, and that the next moment is not guaranteed. 

Gratitude and appreciation for things that I didn’t pay as much attention to before. Waking up in the morning. Smiles and friends. Laughter. The beauty of nature still fills me with awe. 

Gratitude for the love that I have had in my life. The lessons learned. The pain felt helped me grow and get to where I am today. 

Gratitude for my body and what it still does for me, even if more slowly and somewhat less gracefully than it did before. Going to the gym to remain as functional as I can. Different goals these days.

Realizing that I have an expiration date. It is a much more real and sobering knowledge now. Allowing that knowledge to inform my decisions and actions more. Learning to be more present to each precious moment. Acknowledging the gift of being alive. 

The warmth of the sun on my skin. The embrace of a friend. The sound of the rain on the rooftop. The wag of the tail of a dog going by that wants to say hello. 

The joy on people’s faces at the zoo where I volunteer. The child in each of us never really goes away and can still be delighted and amazed. 

The kindness of a stranger on the street.

The delight of a spontaneous conversation with someone I just met. The connection in that moment that may only happen that once and that can be delightful and nourishing. 

My morning cup of coffee as I sit and look at the trees around me, appreciating the morning light.

The art that can still come through me now that I finally have time to paint. Taking in the wonder that I have no idea where a painting that I completed really came from. Awe at the power greater than us that speaks through us. 

The words that can flow through me as I write. And seeing that others can at times resonate to some of the things that I write. Connections through written words. My soul expresses itself through those words. Finally. 

Wisdom earned at realizing what a gift this life is, with all its bittersweetness. What a joy to be alive. Yet to feel sorrow is also to feel aliveness. It’s all part of the journey. Some of it is more painful. Some of it is joyful beyond description. All of it precious. 

Coming home to myself, finally. It has taken some time, and I am so grateful to have arrived. And to still be here, still alive. 

Ready or not, 71… here I come.