I thought growing old would take longer.
Not that 77 is old, but it’s older than I thought I was when I first jumped (or maybe rolled) out of bed this morning. I made my bed, washed my face and one-stepped it down the stairs to grab my first cup of coffee.
Next, as I do every morning, I sat in my favorite chair and did my ”kind-of-meditation” for the day. I start with thinking about my breathing: four seconds in, eight seconds out. Next, I say my homespun prayer focusing on all the gifts that God has “dropped” on me (I’ve never been fond of the word “bestowed”). Then I think about what I did, and did not do, the day before. This brings me to the choices I have for today.
How else should I start a day when age has crept up on me once more?
Oh, yeah. One more thing. Before I hit the sack, I’m going to make one person’s life a little happier. So many options. So many ways.