Aging Not Gracefully

Life in the Boomer Lane and Now Husband were each having back issues when they cooked. Luckily for LBL, she cooks as little as possible. But she does create large Passover and Hanukkah extravaganzes requiring a lot of hours on her feet. She pays the price with miserable back spasms. Now Husband cooks on a regular basis and his back pays the price as well.

To remedy this situation, LBL recently purchased a nifty, thick rubber anti-fatigue mat, similar to that used by restaurant workers. She jumped up and down on it several times and the result was simply wonderful. It was tough, solid, and bouyant. She was sure she and Now Husband had solved their back issues.

Within minutes, LBL forgot the mat was even there. It didn’t take long, then, for her to trip over it. She told herself that she would have to remember that the mat was a new fact of life. Her reminder to herself about the mat was then safely stored in that very special and completely inaccessible part of her brain containing any number of really important bits of data she needed to remember. Some of these important bits had been stored there since before the current century, still patiently waiting to be retreived. As a result of the XXX, LBL found herself tripping over the mat on a regular basis.

Last evening, LBL and Now Husband had a bunch of friends over for dinner. After the meal, Now Husband went into the kitchen, headed to the sink and promptly tripped over the mat. One of their guests noted the mishap and Now Husband said, “Oh, I trip over this all the time.”

LBL was, at that moment, reminded of how many times she and Now Husband had tripped over a basement step, the threshhold to the porch, or the dining room rug. LBL was also reminded of staying in her son’s guest bedroom in his former house. Her son had single-handedly created the guest bedroom over the garage. The spacious room was under a dramatically sloping roof, providing the room a beautiful, romantic quality and giving LBL countless opportunities to seriously bash her head.

While staying at her friend’s house in Maine last year, LBL got up in the middle of the night and headed toward the bathroom, forgetting that there was a very heavy two-step wooden bench pushed up against the bed. LBL went flying, firmly face-planting herself into the hardwood floor.

LBL has had a long history of childhood ballet lessons, providing her body with a grace that her mind never had. While her brain amused her with any number of countless firings that either never seemed to reach any conclusion, or worse, that ended up in places far distant from where they began, she could always depend on her body to know exactly what to do and to do it with real grace.

The common notion of aging gracefully means to accept one’s age and everything that goes along with it. LBL now realizes that, even if she does accept her age, she will not age gracefully. She will continue to trip over the kitchen mat and the dining room area rug and the basement step. She will continue to forget where she has placed something large, until she walks into it. And she will be so distracted that she pushes the Pull door, and runs the risk of being crased into by someone on the oter side of the door. moment.

Luckily, there have been no major events, no broken bones, no bruises. All of the events have been momentary clumsiness, a mockery of her dancing days. LBL must learn to accept this and to be grateful the events have been so mild, if not pretty. Here’s , if not to aging gracefully, at least to aging, period.