The last hours at 59

DonS — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 04:42:49 +0000

The “cheery” scene above was photographed at a bus stop in Lowell, MA in 1947, the year of my birth. It’s mood seems to remind me of how I feel now at the end of five decades of living, breathing, thinking, and stumbling around – no great joy tonight.

In just a few hours I move over to 60. “It’s a number”, I tell myself. I don’t know what it means, but I’m puzzled and a bit sad, just as you could imagine feeling while standing there at the bus stop on a cold day in November, waiting.

Bedtime is soon. There are no moments worth holding onto tonight. I know in the morning I’ll feel “birthday special” – it will be my day. I’m “taking it off”. I’ll enjoy forgetting what’s past and begin thinking of myself as a compact, trim and content young person, ready to tackle what I can in the next ten, shedding the disappointment of age and knowing I can draw on those 59 years to help me manage.

Come on, tomorrow! Get here soon!

What Is It?

The last hours at 59