20 Summers Left

I think I’m having a midlife crisis. I’m not sure. I’m past the mid-way mark. Is it more like a senior crisis? First of all, am I really a senior?  What does being a senior even look like in a time when 57 is not really old. But technically, if I live to 85, I have 28 summers left, as my good friend Gina would say. Although she would say 20 good summers left because the last few might not be so adventurous, if you even make it that far.

So what do I want for the, let’s say, next 25 years? I know the last 10 are unpredictable. I know this because I have always surrounded myself with old people and I can tell you that they are never really prepared for old age. It sneaks up on them and shocks them. They couldn’t have predicted when they would lose their spouse. They couldn’t have predicted health problems. They couldn’t have predicted cheating spouses and divorces. They couldn't have predicted financial crisis’s. It all comes as a bit of a shock. My very first job was working the dinner shift at an ‘old folks home’ at age 14. It was illegal but the legal full-time day staff would go home at 5 and that’s when my shift started as a server. The tips were terrible. Sometimes I would get a mint. The worst thing was when someone you’d grow fond of didn’t show up for dinner. You always knew it was bad. I’ve buried both my parents so I was there at the end of their lives. I know my wild, crazy, artist father, who always promised us that he would just explode one day, ended up in one of these homes. He didn’t keep his promise. I have fond memories of the old folks my dad was in. When I would chat with these lovely folks, they would always convey disbelief that they needed to be assisted in living. None of them saw it coming. They knew it was coming. It’s coming for us all. But they were still caught off guard.

So back to what I would like the next 25-30 years to look like? I don’t have many goals left. I’ve done a lot. To quote Ekhart Toll, you spend the first half of your life expanding, and the second half retracting. He says we need to be comfortable with that. It’s the human experience. But I’m scared by the word retracting. It feels like giving up and withering away. Growing older does take grace. You hear it all the time; grow old gracefully. I get it now. It doesn’t mean we give up, we just let go. Or learn to let go. To find something new, you have to let go of the old. Let go of the old, as you embrace getting old. I’m not old yet, but maybe that’s what all the old people said right before they went into the ‘old folks home’.

I still don’t know exactly what I want to do in the, not so long term, but I better start making the best of it now. I’m writing this to remind myself and those reading this, to see old age coming. Don’t be scared. Just be prepared for it. That really means letting go gracefully. Letting go of what you think your future will look like. We don’t know. We can’t predict it. To quote another friend of mine, Vicky, time is the only currency we spend not knowing how much we have. 20 summers is optimistic and a good place to start planning. Maybe I make a list of 20 places left to see. Maybe I start another business because one can do a lot in 20 years. But that sounds more like expanding. Expanding sounds like hard work. Maybe I start a new hobby, or a nonprofit to save the world. And I’ve always wanted a medicinal garden. Oh my God, I am getting old. I’m talking about gardening. Oh well, now I get it. I’m there. Time to start planting for the last 20 summers.