It is official. I am considered elderly. I turned 65, signed up for Medicare, supplemental medical insurance, a drug insurance plan, and I am receiving Social Security. I am now well-established in the senior citizen category.
People were generally kind to me for my 65th birthday, unlike when I turned 50 and my husband and siblings took great pleasure in reminding me that I was older than all of them—“over-the-hill” was the mantra. My husband takes great pleasure at being three months younger and born in 1945 instead of 1944. I have always been older, and as I remind my husband and siblings, I firmly believe, wiser; at least that is my retort.

My grandchildren raise eyebrows when told my age. I know my grandchildren have thought that I am old for a long time; every now and then they tell me. After all, grandparents are supposed to be old. They really do not care about my age though. Why should they? Their age only matters to them, and getting older is their goal.

So, here I am mulling over my age and realizing that I do not feel elderly in the way our society means it. Yes, I have days my muscles and bones ache, unwanted health issues become more frequent, and sometimes when I look in the mirror, or even worse at recent photographs, I wonder who that person is and what happened along the way.

I am not as agile and quick as I used to be. Actually, when I think about it, I was never those things so I do not miss those abilities. I am a turtle in the race of life. I have enjoyed sitting in rocking chairs since I was a child. I started knitting at 25 years of age. The stereotype of a grandmother (I am a Nana) sitting in a rocking chair knitting is me. I still prefer the music of the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s.

Looking up elderly in a thesaurus brings up synonyms like mature (not sure if I qualify for this one), old, getting on, not getting any younger, aged; I have to say yes, that is what is happening.

When I think about this stage of my life though, I must like being elderly because I like myself a lot at this age.

I like the person I have become, and I look forward to who I will become in the time I have left on this earth. There is a freedom in reaching an age where I do not care what other people think of me. I have learned that it only matters what I think of myself.

I have also learned changes in life are mostly for the good. There is always something of value to be found even in the changes we do not want to happen. It is good to understand that we truly only have this moment, and what we do with it is important even in the seemingly small things we do for others.

Through the years I have come to understand the difference between acquaintances and true friendships, and the value of having friendships with people of all ages. It is comforting to understand that friendships do not depend on agreement. Diversity in friendships is enriching.
It is exciting that learning never stops, and to be open to new ideas is inspiring. I marvel at life and the journey I am on. While I do not want this life to end, it is the natural progression of everyone’s life. As I do not fully comprehend the mystery of life, it is the same with the reality of death. Yet, I truly believe that just as we begin each day anew, death is not an end, but a new beginning.

So, even though things change with age and time, some things stay the same. I like being 65 because I am not ready for the alternative. The journey may be getting shorter, but I love the walk; or in my case the stroll.