By Rosemary Woodel
I am a woman who no longer has her own washing machine.
I am very lucky to now live close to well-lit places I want to visit because I should no longer drive certain places at night.
I am a photographer and a writer.
I am a person who cries in public but likes to make people laugh.
I am no longer well organized. Where are the framed photographs I took in Ukraine? Did I give them away? Why?
I am someone who just found a comforter under the bed in a box I hadn’t seen for seven months, who “found” a drawer in the bureau which I hadn’t opened for six months. Apricot sheets!
I am the kind of person who spends an hour trying to fall asleep, ashamed of being grouchy to two people. And when I call to apologize, they didn’t think I was grouchy at all. I am a person who has forgiving friends.
I am someone who gave away nearly all the Christmas decorations I had in my big house and now misses having some of them in my small apartment.
I am a person who was highly regarded at white-water rafting this summer but two months later flunked out of the low-ropes course with leftover tendonitis and a possible meniscus tear. For at least four weeks I have to walk up steps with my left leg leading.
I am someone who likes living in a dormitory for old people. I am now a person with a Talbots credit card. Talbots?!
I am a person wondering how long I want to live.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: This feature, TGB Readers' Stories, appears every Tuesday. Anyone age 50 and older is welcome to submit a story. You can do that by clicking the “Contact” link at the top of every TGB page or at the Guidelines/Submissions page.
Please be sure to read and follow the guidelines before submitting a story. It will save me a lot of time.]