And aging has become central in my life – I do a lot of it.
At 68, there is a great place to prepare to take your leave – 68-75. Surely that’s enough time to tidy up, make some peace, find your hat and hang out. The party draws to a close around 75, the music is slower, the volume is turned down to not disturb the neighbors and some of your friends start to leave early. At 80, the group packs their bags, the stage lights are off, the dealership booth is closed, and Uber shows up with flashing red lights. Most people walk to the door and say their goodbyes. At 85, the lights go out one by one, loud clicks echo in a large darkening dance hall.
But I left the doctor’s office feeling wildly happy. I’ve lived long enough for technology to give me perfect vision and allow me to step out of a room full of people waiting to buy prescription glasses. I was grateful. I wanted to make cartwheels in my front yard.
But I forgot my coat, again I left it in the waiting room, so I had to go inside and get it back.
I’m worried about memory loss now after my wife showed me a photo taken years ago of us posing in front of a large boulder on a mountain hike. I had temporarily lost our way through the woods, night was coming and I started to worry about bears that weren’t completely pro-life. I totally forgot about this hike. I hope I’m not demented, but how would you know?