As I grow older – do we ever say, ”I am old” or is that a place we are always moving toward?
My sister, at age 86, took exception when I described her as ”elderly”!
There is a poem that I like, https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/song-246
HOW PLEASANT it is that always
There’s somebody older than you—
Someone to pet and caress you,
Someone to scold you, too!
Someone to call you a baby,
To laugh at you when you’re wise;
Someone to care when you’re sorry,
To kiss the tears from your eyes;
When life has begun to be weary,
And youth to melt like the dew,
To know, like the little children
Somebody’s older than you.
The path cannot be so lonely,
For someone has trod it before;
The golden gates are the nearer,
That someone stands at the door.
I can think of nothing sadder
Than to feel, when days are few,
There’s nobody left to lean on,
Nobody older than you!
The younger ones may be tender
To the feeble steps and slow;
But they can’t talk the old times over—
Alas, how should they know!
‘Tis a romance to them—a wonder
You were ever a child at play;
But the dear ones waiting in heaven
Know it is all as you say.
I know that the great All-Father
Loves us, and the little ones too;
Keep only childlike-hearted—
Heaven is older than you!
Confused as to where this post is heading? Ha ha. So am I!
I suppose what I really want to say is that as we grow older, I think that most of us tend to become a little more accepting of others – of our differences and the things that we used to vehemently disagree about don’t matter so much.
I like to believe that as we move towards aging and the loss of our faculties -because for many of us it does happen, and stop trying to pretend it isn’t so – we also become less likely to judge others and to find fault.
I chose the photos of lily pads for a reason. As a child, of four or five, I lived in a beautiful and remote part of northern British Columbia, Canada. The farm where I lived had a pond complete with lily pads and frogs.
In those days, I had no idea that people could be cruel, uncaring, or prejudiced. I spend hours at that pond, catching tiny toads, and listening to the frogs and the birds.
The few kids and adults who came and saw that pond liked it. There was never a hint that I might learn about loneliness or hate then.
Perhaps we all have a special place, or at least a special memory of a time, or a person or a place, that made us happy.
As I grow older, I think of that place, and today, all this time past, it makes me happy.
If you feel depressed, or alone, misunderstood, try to think of that place – yes, to risk being trite – of your ”happy place” because so many of us do have them.
If you lack such a special place, take my memories of that beautiful, quiet secluded pond, and make it your own.
Listen to the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees. Hear the croaks of the frogs as they hop from one lily pad to another. Hear the gentle lapping of the nearly still water. Smell the water. There is no algae here, just the soft scent of water and the forest.
There is a fate that awaits us all, hopefully not too soon for most.
But we need our memories and our happy times to get through the years.
Serenity….the hidden pond in an otherwise hectic and often sad world.