I'm on the cusp of leaving my 50's behind and I gotta say that I won't be sorry to see them in the rearview mirror. It's ironic because I spent my 30's and 40's trying my best to ignore that fact that time waits for no man (or woman), and yes those really were wrinkles I was seeing and heaven forbid but my magical metabolism had deserted me. It was about this time that I began to take seriously those little homilies like, "A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips" and "Time may be a great healer but it's a lousy beautician".
Having recently broken my wrist, I'm currently slogging my way through physical therapy and it is abundantly apparent that I no longer bounce back as quick as I once did. But there is always something to be thankful for if you take the time to look. For example I'm sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don't hurt, well physically anyway.
These days I am absolutely enamored of oldsters who maintain their zest for life and I've come to the conclusion that the key to successful aging is to pay as little attention to it as possible. So I'll embrace turning 60 and will remember the wise words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, "To be seventy years young is sometimes far more cheerful and hopeful than to be forty years old."
