Oatmeal. It’s what’s for breakfast for this girl. After all, I’m 53 now. Yup. Today’s the anniversary of my escape from the womb.
My body seems to be rebelling the aging process. More days than not, I walk around wondering why my hips hurt? Where did I put my glasses? Why is everyone around me mumbling? Is this some kind of gas-light situation? Are they trying to make me cranky? What in the hell did I eat that gave me this heartburn? Then I stand up or sit down and my knee pops so loudly it wakes my dog. “Sorry,” I mumble. He can’t hear me. He’s old, too.
I know getting older is a gift, but it’s like the gift you got from that one aunt when you were five. You really wanted a cool toy, but she gave you a new pillow. It was good to have a new pillow, but shoot, you’d sure rather have had a toy!!! Nonetheless, you still have to say thanks for the pillow.
So, I’ll give my thanks today. I’m thankful for having a body to complain about. Hearing enough my whole life to know it’s getting weaker. I’m grateful for being born with good eyesight, and now I’m glad for reading glasses. I’ll get a magnifying glass if I have to, because dog gone it, I’m not going to stop reading! And boy I’ve seen some awesome things with these eyes. My children’s birth, my husband’s love, my family’s smiles and support, so many friends, so many beautiful skies and sunsets, rivers, oceans, lakes, mountains, desserts and worldly things, too. I am blessed.
Beneath my complaints, I really do have a thankful heart.
What a gift life is. The good and the bad. Maybe I’ll get another year for which to be thankful. But for now, I’m pretty fond of today—oatmeal and all.