Today is my birthday! My sixties will conclude this year, setting the stage for my seventh decade. In the blink of an eye I have gone from young to old, from fresh to crumbled, from newly minted to tarnished. The AARP assures me that I am not really old old. I am just young old. Thanks for that. I know the adage says that “age is just a number.” But it is still a number. A big number. One that has connotations and denotations: shoulder pain, aching toes, wrinkly arms, wattley necks, and other bodily insults.
But the sun is shining and it’s Rosh Hashanah- the birthday of the world in Jewish lore and the birthday of my life for which I am very grateful.
I’d like to keep track of this year- an exercise to see where the time actually goes and how I spend it. The world is a scary place and full of dark woods and demons. Happiness is elusive, but it exists even in the midst of pain and sorrow.