OK, it’s like this.
I’m not sick. I’m haven’t moved away and I haven’t descended into dementia — yet — and, as one sweet lady suggested in a phone call today, I haven’t fallen from my recliner and injured myself.
I’ve simply been lazy and have taken a little break from My Senior Moment, but I’m back now, getting into more trouble than ever.
Actually, the phone call I received today gave me a jump start into once again sharing the joys of getting old.
The lady who called is 84, the same as I will be Saturday. And she said she and her twin sister are fond of sharing my column in the newspaper each week and have been concerned by my absence.
It warmed my heart to realize that my words could bring pleasure to these dear ladies and that they were missed when I failed to produce.
One reason I haven’t been writing is due to the fact that over the years I have developed a strange habit of working on my column at 5 o’clock in the morning — much too early for an old lady to be creative.
It grew harder and harder to drag myself out of bed. I kept hitting the snooze button on my phone until it was too late to be creative before going to work.
Also, I was beginning to think my life was too dull and I had nothing to write about.
But that’s not true.
When one is 84 years old, every day you live is an adventure and often also a struggle.
I am well aware that there are men and women in their 80s and even in their 90s who are still dancing or even climbing mountain trails. I’m not one of them.
My joints pop and creak when I move and I do my share of groaning when no one is listening.
Case in point: a recent solo shopping trip in search of big bargains on Vera Bradley duffle bags.
I was planning a weekend escape and was in dire need of weekend luggage of some sort. A friend informed me that I could purchase the bags I wanted at a nearby shopping outlet for at least 50% off retail.
I began to plan my quest by checking online the layout of the stores and the proximity of my intended target to the parking lot.
I decided with the help of my little red rollator I could manage getting to the shop, exploring the merchandise and then making my way back to my car.
The sales were as great as I had been told, and by parking and sitting a few times, I managed to purchase three incredible pieces of bright pink soft luggage.
Like a warrior, I was spent after my successful achievement, and my way back to my car was slow as I stopped several times for a little rest on the rollator.
When I reached the car, with weary arms I lifted my buggy into the trunk, threw my purchases into the back seat, groaned a bit and then congratulated myself on a job well done.
I believe there should be special medals for old people, and that day I certainly earned one.