Hello friends, I hope that this Wednesday has been good for you. I volunteer at a local hospital for a few hours on Wednesdays; it’s nice to feel needed. You know that I call this blog Fifty and Holding, and I thought that I’d tell you why. If you’ve read my profile you know that I’m actually 52 years old, but 50 was an interesting birthday for me. I found myself beginning to feel an urgency to hold on, to my youth, my sanity, my dreams. So from fifty onward I’ll be holding onto those things that I fear are slowly slipping away, henceforth, Fifty and Holding.
Folks say that age ain’t nothing but a number, maybe it’s true. I don’t really feel that I’m over fifty. One might ask, “How does fifty feel?” I’ll tell you it feels like you have to do everything that you haven’t done thus far, because time is of the essence. OK we all know that life has a beginning and inevitably for everyone there is an end. Yet there is something about being fifty that challenges one’s sense of being. One starts to question the hows and whys of this existence. I personally find myself looking over my life at those things that I should have done differently. I'm wondering how I can make up for the mistakes, the bad decisions, and in some cases, the indecision that thrust me into the bad places that scarred my psyche. “It’s not too late,” “It’s not too late!” that’s what everyone says when I lament about those goals that I have not yet accomplished. Well, perhaps it isn’t too late, but things are different now. I’ll give you an example. I thought that by this time in my life I’d be successful, at something. I thought that I’d have a successful career. I’m jobless now, but when I do get a job that develops into a career, can I work my way to the top, make a name for myself at 62 or 70? It’s not impossible, but I tell you there is a big difference in being a successful 30 year old and a successful 70 year old. Don’t get me wrong, I embrace the good in my life every chance that I get, but I’m just sharing with you those thoughts that come to me in the wee hours of the morning when my neck hurts and I can’t sleep.
Fifty is also a time discovery. I’ve always liked to dance and from time to time I get with friends (my friends are usually younger) and go out. We walk into the club and I look around, everyone looks like Beyonce, and I feel more akin to Della Reese (at least she was Touched by an Angel.) I stand around with my friends trying to be aloof, to appear unconcerned because Lord knows that I don’t want to be pegged as the old woman at the club. You know there are always one or two wearing stilettos and strapless dresses that are too short and too tight. They smile seductively at young men who brush them off. That’s not me, I’m there to dance, hear some good music, and go home. So eventually I’m asked to dance, I oblige, and then it’s on. The music picks me up and I dance like there’s no tomorrow. Gotta slow it down, are songs longer nowadays or what? I dance up a sweat, songs over, we smile and part ways. OH Lord, I’m looking around to see if my friends notice how out of breath I am. All the while I’m praying “Please Lord don’t let me have a heart attack and die up here in the club!” While I was dancing I thought I was the bomb, hanging with the younger folks, doing the damn thing. Standing on the wall recuperating from my workout , I noticed another sister on the dance floor, she looked to be around my age. Girlfriend was tearing it up sweating and dancing; I’m sure she thought that she too was da bomb. Then I thought did I look like that? She was dancing alright, but it looked like she was moving in slow motion. Sometimes the body just doesn’t do what the mind tells it to. I had just discovered that I’m a little too old and outta shape to attempt to drop it like it’s hot. It's lukewarm at best, if not downright cold. I moved slowly away from the dance floor bought me a bottled water to go, and set out for home. No one would be expecting Beyonce there. Bed and my pillow would suffice for the night. Maybe I’ll try it again another time.
Well, friends I hope that I haven’t bored you with my musings. I’m just trying to tell you how it is for me. If you’ve not yet reached 50, don’t be scured (yes I said scured) you’ll still be you. It’s not bad, but things do change. Please feel free to comment or share, let me know that you’re feeling me, or not…Share the link to my blog with friends and family. Nite, Nite.
No comments:
Post a Comment