For a long time I have thought I had an unusual perspective on time and age. My perspective is not always accurate, just unusual.
As a kid I understood age by how long it took to count to a certain age. “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9” was older than “1,2,3,4,5,6“ because it took more time to count out. A “decade” was a long time and at about 6 I had a hard time thinking I would live through a decade. I remember having thoughts about certain events that I saw as “Black and White” moments, meaning that in a past generation these moments would have be captured in a black and white picture.
Recently, I have been thing about getting old.
Remember your Creator in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say, “I find no pleasure in them”
When will my “days of trouble”come?
When will I become unstable on my feet, needing a cane, a walker or someone to hold my arm?
When will I have to adjust my diet because of my inability to chew certain food?
When will I have to give up on things I love because I can’t physically do them anymore?
When will I start my days with a hand full of pills designed to keep my organs playing nice with each other?
When will I start to drive slowly on the road because I am unsure of my eye sight or ability to react quickly?
When will I be afraid to go out at night?
When will I lose my confidence to defend myself?
When will I feel like the shell of the man I once was?
When will I need others more than they need me?
When will I revert to being the child again and my children needing to parent me?
When will I become frail?
When will I not be able to run, jump or climb on the roof of my house?
When will I become shocked at how such things cost, how unrully kids are these days and how culture changed?
When will technology out pace my ability to keep up?
When will I think yester-year was the best time of life?
When will I not understand fashion, music or design?
When will I become a grumpy old man?
When will I not care if the waist of my pants is around my chest?
When will I need to sit while waiting more than a few mintues?
When will clothes, furniture and glasses become more about comfort and need than style and trend?
When will others tell me I am too old to drive?
When will I tell them to shove off, but prove them right?
When will I lose my independence?
When will I start to say, “I don’t get out much?”
When will the TV or my doctor become my most constant companion?
When will I speak my opinionated thoughts too loudly at the store, coffee shop or post office?
When will I become starved for human interaction?
When will I take up too much of someone’s time wanting to talk?
When will I become inconvenient?
When will the death of my friends become expected and not tragic?
When will I sit waiting for death to arrive like waiting for a dinner guest?
I can’t answer any of these questions.
All I can do is be thankful that “When…” is not today!