An Old Dog Learns Some New Tricks
How do I want the rest of my life to go?
I’m 63 years old. When did that happen? Well, of course, I know when it actually happened, but on a more existential level, when the fuck did that happen?
I don’t feel old, most of the time anyway. The middle-of-the-night pee breaks are annoying; otherwise, things are pretty good.
I still enjoy most of the things I’ve always enjoyed, and recently added writing on Medium to that list. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.
But I have started thinking about what I want the rest of my time here to look like. How many years do I have left? Twenty? Maybe as much as 30? And of those years, for how many will I be healthy enough to enjoy myself?
Much of that time will be dictated by my wife’s health. Alzheimer’s is unpredictable, making it difficult to make any sort of plan beyond a day or two. Sometimes that’s a good thing, forcing me to appreciate this moment in this moment. But at other times, I wish I could know what’s coming when.
We are making plans for our annual (and sometimes more-than-annual) trip to Walt Disney World in the fall. After thirty-odd trips, it’s a place that’s well familiar to us and a place where she feels comfortable. That’s one thing I see in our future — as many Disney trips as we can manage…
