I See Old People

Seven years ago today, I celebrated my 60th birthday with a lovely gathering of family and friends.  Our cocktail napkins read, "I see old people."   Yep, I see old people—or at least I see one in the mirror everyday.

But my definition of old gets older every year.  I am now thinking you get old at about 90.  Until then, you are merely a little older than average.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that at 67, I am older than most people on Earth.

Between my 60th party and now I got the Big C, which sort of changed my perspective on everything.  So I value each year I have lived to celebrate since then.  I value the health I have maintained, the family I love, the friends who helped me during treatment, and those I have made since.

And I don't feel as old as I apparently am.  In fact, my age often comes as a surprise to me.

I hope that continues, that I never seriously feel my age, and that I continue to be able to celebrate my blessings.  Who can ask for more?

The lesson of cancer is that life is a blessing.  Such a way to learn such a lesson.  Such a blessing.