Blissfully.

Preoccupation with aging. That’s my bugaboo. Now that I’m in the final cycle of life. I think. More than I used to. About nearing the end of life. I’m supposed to, aren’t I? An older man thinks differently than a younger man. Sure, I’m still active. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But I’m beginning to feel a little scared. About aging. Not being able to do as I used to. No longer burning both ends of the candle. Odd thing. I’ve noticed. When I’m alone. It’s easier. Coping. Maybe growing old should be a private matter. It helps. Less embarrassing that way. But I’m different. I like to talk about the embarrassment of aging. Of trying to fit. Into this new life cycle. One to be avoided. If I had my druthers. The next best thing. Is to write about the experience. To share my thoughts. About the gradual passage into old age. In some ways, I am not yet old. Seems that I have avoided dementia. Though I have slowed down. I’m more methodical. I still have the capability. To understand. What’s going on. In my soul. In the depths of my being. To express my thoughts. To find the words. I’ve never been perfect at it. But I’m better than I was 40 years ago. Maybe I underestimate my ability. To understand me. And others, too. Maybe that’s my problem. I understand what’s going on. Too well. More proof. That knowledge can be baffling and scary. Yes, I got through life so far. Because I took advantage of my ignorance. Blissfully. --Jim Broede