Turning inward.

Trying to imagine what it's like to be 90. Maybe it's similar to being 76. Which I am. The oldest guy in the neighborhood is 90. He's Ed Hinrichs. Maybe I'll ask him, 'What's it like to be 90?' Guess I have. Already. But I need more details. So I'll ask him again. Next time I see him. My mom didn't quite make it to 90. She died at 88. And she was probably ready to die. Wanted to die. Lost her zest for life. For a number of reasons. But mostly ill health. Ed's health isn't the best. He can't walk much any more. Rides a motor scooter. Anyway, seems that Ed still savors life. Enough to want to live for another year or two or more. But probably not forever. I still dream of living forever. Because I'm still in love with life. But maybe that won't be forever. I've been fortunate. Despite some adversities. And disappointments. I still feel good. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Every which way. But I can imagine the bottom falling out. Things going awry. But don't think about it very much. Because I'm trying to live to the utmost. Today. I don't get too far ahead of myself. Because if I do that, I'm not fully savoring the moment. I suppose Ed is savoring the moment. At least he seems to be. He likes conversation. Talks to me. And to others. No recluse. He's still mindful. I should engage Ed more than I do. But I also have a need to be introverted. To get inside myself. Deep into my soul. Into the essence of my being. Some days I prefer being aloof. Turning inward. --Jim Broede