The Doldrums

I dislike summer. Especially the heat, which seems to be getting hotter earlier--it's only mid-July and the AC's been on for over a week already. Yes, it keeps the house comfortable for me--and especially Pingo, who gladly stays inside, but I much prefer open windows and breezes. It's also a lonelier time. Everyone seems to be off vacationing. I gaze with envy at photos on Facebook of families, gaggles of friends, by the seashore, in front of the Eiffel Tower, hiking or on roller coasters.

I no longer have my travel companion and have no desire to find another.  I have twinges of regret never having visited Spain, Thailand, or Australia... but not that much.  

Is this what old age means? the diminution of desire? The loss of everything, bit by bit? I watch as if from a distance, the shoulder that aches continuously, the inability to read anything without "cheaters," the stiffness in getting out of bed each morning. I realize I'm better off than many of my cohort, so try not to whine. But still...how naive to imagine that 83 is the same as 70.

I know better, I've written about this!  I just didn't think it applied to me.

A recently read Facebook post sums up the gap between my idea of old age and what seems to be the prevailing ideal...."The older you get the more you realize how precious life is. You have no desire for drama, conflict or stress. You just want good friends, a cozy home, food on the table and people who make you happy."

Really? That's it? Shoot me now.

What about passion? Exploration? Creativity?

I do realize "how precious life is," or more accurately, how lucky I am to still have most of my marbles, but I want more than a “cozy home, people who make me happy.” I feel an urgency to still do things that give my life meaning, to be relevant while I can.

Surely, I'm not alone in this?