Halfway To the Abyss

As the day looms and time marches on, sometimes the smell of my fear becomes more pungent.

While my determination to make middle age an era of opportunity and adventure, there is just something about actually crossing over the great divide that I can't not wrap my mind around. A moment in time, a mere second and here I am halfway through my fifties.

Sometime overnight I’m going to cross the great abyss of sixty. Logically, I know, that if the fates allow, I’ll wake up in the same bed, in the same body, but sometime during the night when the moon steals the light from the sun, time will steal from me another decade.

I have no need to mourn the loss of perky boobs or a thin waist. My confidence and body have now finally crossed paths and whilst there’s a few things I would tweak, I’m certainly not crying over the loss of my twenties’ body.

Sometimes I look at people the same age as me and am overcome with the sensation that I am surrounded by old people. Not that age has anything to do it with per se, but I wonder if they look at me and feel the same. I sincerely hope not. But it did stun me the first time I realized that I am actually older than the President of the United States – go figure.

There are times, when I look outside of myself and again remember that getting older is a blessing. When so many have to fight to stay alive. Then I feel small and petty and draw in in a grateful breath.

So, I move forward smug in the knowledge that there’s another five years to go before I have to worry about the great abyss. I expect to do just as well at processing that as well.

"Getting older...", as my sweetie always says, "...it beats the alternative."

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