Of late I’ve been consumed with thinking about this time of my life and trying to stay conscious and present with all the emotions, the concerns, and the delights that arrive. At 75, my body ages, following its normal biological design. No need to argue with, or deny, the facts. At this moment, I’m not liking “being attached” to a walker, even though it’s less about age than the residue of illness, and my daily attempts to divest myself of this aid are beginning to bear fruit. On the other hand, I am really liking feeling so young in spirit, grateful to be useful, and to be able to enjoy my glorious and refreshing summer swims. Continue reading