Tomorrow I turn sixty and I’m thoroughly prepared.
The prospect once was daunting but I’m not remotely scared.
A year of contemplation and reflection made it clear:
from fifty-nine to sixty’s just another plain old year.
Oh yes, of course, I’m aging, but that doesn’t make me bawl,
‘cause aging beats the other option – not to be at all.
And being beats not being, I don’t think you’ll argue that,
whether you’re a Trumper or a liberal Democrat.
My body may be sagging and my joints are getting creaky;
my buoyancy is flagging and my plumbing’s sometimes leaky,
but still I find inside myself a growing, sweet, contentment.
I seem to have more room for joy and less for sharp resentment.
I watch my children blossom and my grandchild’s great discovers
and happily assume my place - a sideline Mom who hovers,
prepared to swoop and help whenever someone needs a boost,
then flutter back to my home base, contentedly, to roost.
But truly, life’s much more than that, I’m finding satisfactions
in cultivating aptitudes with life’s reduced distractions.
I’ve found there’s so much more to do, so many paths ahead,
so much unknown to seek, explore, and learn before I’m dead!
Oh, yes, this turning sixty made me stop and think a bit.
but happily, so far at least, I’m feeling fully fit
to carry on, to join the fray, to plunge ahead full speed.
Not only am I harvesting, I still can plant some seed.
So off I go adventuring, beginning decade seven,
to find and cultivate on Earth what little bits of heaven
are always out there to be found, to highlight all their glory,
whatever age I may have reached, whatever stage my story.
My 60th year in 60,000 words – DONE!
Day 366: 291 words, TOTAL = 60,000; none remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.