The gratitude of growing old

About three weeks ago, while hiking high on Holston Mountain, I came across a young lady hiker. We talked at length (and eventually in great depth) as we traipsed together for the remainder of our hike. Hiking in a forest alongside anyone for a good while can lead one's mind to trek into life’s deeper meanings - which is precisely where our minds led us.

At the end of our walk in the woods, this very pretty and highly intelligent young lady ventured a guess at my age. Much to my surprise, she guessed me to be “older” than I actually am.

I smiled and asked her, “How’d you guess so well?”

She replied, “Because I think it must take a very long time for someone to become filled with so much gratitude for everything.”

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Just a few days later, as if by the directed grace of divine Providence, pure sheer luck of the devil, or a big ol’ blast of both, I sat down with a female friend at a downtown Bristol restaurant. This soul and I had once dated, nearly half a century ago. While our spirits wistfully reminisced about those days, we paused to reflect on how time had taken its toll on both our bodies.

“Not everyone gets to grow old,” said my friend. “Only the very lucky get to do it.”

“Then we must be mighty lucky,” I replied - to which we both laughed out loud, hearty and full.

In no time, this dear lady and I were laughing and snorting like elementary school children. We drew more than one blank stare from other patrons seated nearby.

Both of us agreed that our spirits had never felt younger.

I do realize that “old age” does have some drawbacks.

I can’t hear as well as I used to (though being a man, I could never hear that well - according to any lady friend I ever had … and I must admit the likelihood of their being quite right).

I can’t eat anything I want anymore (unless I want to stay up half the night and howl at the moon).

My once prodigious energy is gone. I still have a lot “for my age”, but it’s a spectre of what I had in my youth.

I forget some things more easily - especially things in my “short term” memory. Sometimes I now forget to where I’m driving in Bristol, at least for a moment. And I am more prone to forget something as simple as whether I just brushed my teeth or not.

Yet at my recent Mr. Talley/Student Reunion I recognized 100% of the nearly five hundred students who came, many of whom I hadn’t seen in decades. Few if any minds, young or old, can come close to that.

I am immensely grateful for my chance at life, and for my future fate, whatever that may be.

I realize that my mind will continue to waver, at least a bit, as time marches on. Someday it may even be gone. Such a realization has hit too many of my friends already. My heart goes out to those who face such a fate (as I might yet). Most of us would rather be hit by a brick wall.

But growing old doesn't usually hit us like a brick wall.

More often it sneaks up on us