There, I said it. Yes, folks, this is the last day before Medicare. I would have said the last day before I'm officially old, but my sister would frown and say, "You're not old!" Today at work I emailed all my co-workers letting them know that tomorrow was my 55th birthday (with the understanding that 65 is the new 55) and that dilly bars were in the break room freezer. Everyone wished me Happy 55th and I liked playing the numbers game. But tonight the reality is well,...real. How did I get here? Wow, it seems a long time in terms of numbers but a short time looking back. Where did that time go? And yet, it was a long time ago since I came home from the hospital, not that I remember but I have pictures, until today (oops! I just looked at the clock - it's past midnight).
This last year has been incredible. Grandchildren who are officially four years old, retirement for my husband and semi-retirement for me, publishing two books of poems, mine and my older sister's, and more exciting things in the year ahead. I have a good quality of life, friends and a wonderful family that makes every day a blessing, a good marriage and even some dreams left to be realized. No complaints from here.
Tonight's poem came from an actual phrase my sisters and I coined recently after becoming frustrated with some of the signs of aging. Oh, I don't mean lines, wrinkles and crow's feet. I mean, mental acuity, specifically, having a hard time finding the right word in conversation. It's frustrating as he__, heck!.
SICK OF ME
by Patty Lynn
I can't begin to tell you
How sick I am of me.
I try to make a statement
And stutter foolishly.
There was a time articulate
Was how I was described,
But now when I can't find a word
I'd like to run and hide.
Why is it that our minds must go
The same way as our bodies.
I'd like to laugh but when I do
I've got to find the potty.
The sad part is that when I find
Another who's annoying
I make my way right out the door
Because I'm not enjoying...
Their company, I leave the scene,
But when it's me who's taxing,
I can't leave me, but wish I could.
Is it too much I'm asking?
I guess it is, I'm stuck with me,
My tongue-twisting and all.
Articulate me's a memory,
A challenge to recall.