New Beginnings

Last week I ended my post, Summer’s End,  with the observation that at my age “new beginnings are unreliable.” One of my readers commented that the word “caught her up short,” and asked me to say more. So, after a week of reflecting on why I said that and what I meant, here’s my response.

It seems as though every day I hear about a friend whose illness, joint replacement surgery, or some other infirmity of aging has forced them to change their plans, if not their lifestyle. Those of us who are homeowners have started to weigh investing in renovations against how long we’ll be around to enjoy them. It's not just new beginnings that are “unreliable,” it’s ordinary plans we used to take for granted.

And yet, here I am in my mid-70’s writing a novel, my first. I do wince when I hear authors say it took them 3-5 years to complete their books, but the writing is giving me so much joy I am happy just to focus on the next chapter and not worry about the ending .

And yet, most of my friends are busier than ever, determined to live life fully. They’ll pause, acknowledge that none of us knows what the next day will bring, and get on with enjoying the day they’re in. They’re crossing adventures off their bucket list “while they can.”

Perhaps unpredictable is a better word than unreliable, and that is no different than it has been all along. Today is 9/11. I remember waking up to blue skies and sunshine, thinking it would surely be one of the ten best days of the year.

We may dwell more on the uncertainty as we age, but we can’t let us hold us back.