Gratitude

How to Accept Getting Older

Or, happy birthday to me

collage by author in Canva, with Dorothy emoji image from a meme (artist unknown)

I’ve mentioned before that my grandma always told my brother and me that she was “39 and holding,” as we craned our necks and tried (unsuccessfully) to catch a glimpse of her age on her driver’s license.

I never understood her reluctance to reveal her age until I turned 40 and started to realize how our chronological age doesn’t match the way we feel emotionally or the way our mental clocks work.

Why would we want to give voice to something that just makes us feel out of sorts or out of date — or both?

I don’t mind telling you my age (I’m turning 47 this week). I do sometimes mind feeling my age, but then I remind myself that I could be dealing with vertigo (or worse) at any age. And to quote my dad, having a birthday is better than the alternative.

So maybe I’m cranky sometimes, but I’m always grateful.

My grandma was an avid viewer of The Golden Girls when I was a kid, a show I knew at the time was over my head but which I started watching on and off when I was in my 20s, first through reruns and later with a couple of DVD sets.

Lately, I love to stream the show in the evenings. I recently realized that Blanche’s character is only in her early 50s when season…