Aging

“You have no right to be tired!’

The young mother’s words left me speechless for a few seconds and then I found my voice.

“Honey, you’re at least half my age and I’ve been babysitting little grandchildren all day. Yes, I have a right to be tired.”

She didn’t really get it, but then, I didn’t get it either when I was her age.  Back when I was waking up with crying babies every night I was never duly sympathetic to my father, may he rest in peace, complaining that he always seemed to be awake in the wee hours of the morning. Now more and more of my contemporaries are voicing the same complaint.

My mother, may her memory be for a blessing, used to poke sly fun at herself when she’d forget a name. She’d say I’m having a senior moment. I wasn’t the least bit tactful when I’d asked her, with chutzpah, what her excuse was when she was younger. I wonder if now she’s laughing at me from the grave every time I search frantically for my misplaced watch, glasses, or phone.

Then there was my great-aunt, z’l. As a little girl I spent a week or two every summer in her un-air-conditioned farmhouse. While her granddaughter and I were dressed in shorts and sleeveless tops she sported woolen clothing and stockings.  We reacted to her worries that we weren’t dressed warm enough with giggles. Now, though, I feel she’s come back to haunt me as I invariably take a sweater with me everywhere in the summer to protect myself in climate-controlled buildings.

I’m beginning to get it. Once an expert splinter remover I can no longer see well enough to take out my grandchildren’s thorns. Bending over to buckle shoes or fasten seat belts stopped being a piece of cake ages ago. Hearing little darlings whisper secrets in my ear isn’t what it once was.

I hope the young mother will someday have her own little grandchildren to babysit and begin to get it. I don’t mean that in a mean way. It’s not grandkids are parents’ revenge on their children. Rather, it’s a desire for her life to be enriched.

If Hashem allows me additional years I’ll have more and more understanding of those in their seventies, eighties, and maybe even their nineties. As I grow older I know one of the consolations for the inconveniences of aging is having a precious child call me grandma.

As we prepare to enter a new year it's my prayer that everyone will have a special child, whether related or a child longing for a surrogate grandparent, to enrich their old age. It is also my prayer that we all age gracefully surrounded by those we love.

courtesy of dreamtimes.com

Reminder my novel, Growing With my Cousin, is available on-line at http://www.feldheim.com/growing-with-my-cousin.html or

https://www.amazon.com/Growing-Cousin-Ester-Katz-Silvers/dp/194635113X/