From our deck, one of God’s blessings is our captivating
view of the mountains, water, and ferries gliding by.
People from all backgrounds fill the pier. People fish, walk by,
or sit and take selfies.
On the sidewalk, shirtless joggers pass by, mothers with lattes
stroll with their babies, and dogs on leashes walk next to their masters.
Around May a parade of high school girls with long prom dresses and
6-inch heels come with their dates for picture taking. They are giddy
and all smiley faced. I call them “the young and restless.”
Young brides and grooms come with their
bridal entourages at a certain time to capture
the perfect sunlight for their wedding portrait.
“I hope it lasts” I say to my brick wall.
Because after the church service and bottles of champagne,
the real work begins.
Up from our deck and inside our condo complex
is a different world divided into 25 units. The average age of the
people living here is 85.
We have two widows who are each 100 years old.
I call my condo building the OLD AND DYING. I have made peace
with living in our condo. It’s a little tight, but that’s what you do
when the kids leave home. You downsize. Greeting my neighbors
inside the elevator, I now have compassion where there was judgement.
I look at them and say “hi.” I make small talks instead of glancing down
at my newly painted toes and
Two doors down is my neighbor, Walter. He walks with his
shoulders curled and greets me with a baritone voice.
A private man, he keeps to himself. No one knows his exact age.
Some guess 85 or 90.
Of course, I notice there is not a lot of difference between ages 85 and 95.
The fact is you are OLD and WRINKLED.
Part 2 will be posted tomorrow . . .