Today is cloudy and humid, but a breeze gives a little relief. Rain is predicted for the late afternoon.

When I was a kid, I always wondered how it felt to grow old. I’d see old ladies shopping in the square. They wore flowered dresses like my grandmothers did. They wore clunky shoes with thick heels, usually black shoes with ties. In the rain they covered their heads with those see through rain hats tied under the chin, wore matching see through rain coats and shoe covers, each closed with a button. Their purses were square with a single strap. I never felt any connection between the old ladies and me.

In years I am old, but old is relative, not always age but sometimes disposition. I’ll be 76 on my next birthday. My face is lined. I used to lift 50 pounds of cat litter from the car to the house. Now I drag 15 pound bags. I still think I can do what I can’t do. Jars are a challenge. I forget stuff. It comes back but only after I needed it. I find that totally frustrating.

Growing old is physical. I have a cadre of doctors tending to my ills. I see them often because bodies have only a certain length of life. I get that.

Amazingly there is a miracle in all of this growing old business. It doesn’t dull the spirit unless you let it. Life is still fun and interesting and joyful, the best part of it all. I am awed by beautiful sunsets. I watch the snow fall under the back light. I love the colors of fall. I watch the worst old science fiction movies and enjoy every one of them. I like to laugh a lot. My friends and I still play the games we played as kids. The only difference is our language is much saltier.

I find life layered. The older we are, the more the layers. When I was young, my life was a single layer, but now, I think of my life as a giant chocolate cake with layer after layer filled with ganache. How wonderful!