September 4 - Airplanes and trash

I'm getting up there these days.  Sixty is looming ahead in the road.  I guess I could look at it as a barricade or check point, but I prefer to think of it more as a speed bump or maybe even a pothole. 

I used to be really hung up on ages.  Before I was thirty I didn't think I would make it that far because of some of the stupid things I did.  Most of the stupidest things involved cars --like getting every car I owned completely airborne at least once.  (Kids, don't try this at home.  I was lucky on more than one occasion).

Turning thirty was a big deal to me since I really thought I would be expected to grow up.

It didn't happen.

When I was thirty and one day nothing changed.  What a relief.

I'm fine with numbers now --and that's what they are, just numbers.  Internally I still feel like I'm about 18 years old, although perhaps a bit wiser.  My body often lets me know that I'm not that young, but so far I have been able to deal with it's limitations.

What got me thinking about all this tonight was when I was putting out the trash in a light rain.  I rolled the bins out to the curb and enjoyed my special time for a moment.  (I like going out in the driveway/front yard at night.  There is no one about and I have the street all to myself.  I stand there and soak in the breeze and the sounds and I'm all by myself for a few moments.)  I stood and listened to the rain drip and enjoyed the cool, wet air on my face.

And then I turned around, put my arms out like an airplane and banked back and forth down the driveway on my way back inside.


.