I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the birthday I’m celebrating this month—62. In many ways, I can’t believe it. When I was a kid, 62 sounded SO OLD and I never thought I’d get there, especially since my lifestyle didn’t exactly promote health and well-being, at least it didn’t then. I certainly don’t feel old now, but I do realize that the end of the line is not nearly as far down the road as it used to be. So, not knowing what the future has in store, I’ve decided to start tying up loose ends…simply finishing projects I’ve started and starting projects I’ve put off. There are quite a few.

One project is plowing through two similar-type books my daughter gave me years ago. I don’t know why she gave me two; it’s almost passive/aggressive. Both are compilations of my answers to questions that explore my childhood memories, family history and traditions, and recollections of special people and special times. Questions like:

Who among your childhood friends do you remember now? Are you still in contact with them?

How did you fill your childhood summertime days?

How did you learn to drive?

Who was your first crush?

 
Eventually very thought-provoking questions are posed, like:

What was the happiest time of my life? What was the saddest?

What was the most difficult choice you had to make?

What role does religion or spirituality play in your life?

Yow would you describe ‘success?’

If you could keep only one family photo, which would it be?

Even though the thought of writing about my own life doesn’t appeal to me personally, I can see how it could be beneficial and possibly entertaining to certain people someday. Come to think of it, I would be very grateful to find something written by any one of my four grandparents—none of whom I’d gotten a chance to know, unfortunately. I have a few memories of my maternal grandparents with whom we lived and to whom I’d been very close. Sadly, both died by the time I was eight. My dad, who was orphaned by the age of four, didn’t even know his parents, and so of course neither did I. I’ve always envied others—especially adults—whose grandparents were still alive…I can only imagine how rich some of those relationships must be!

I have a young granddaughter who’s almost 8, and she and I are like peas in a pod…much to my daughter’s disbelief. In fact, she’s commented on more than one occasion that, “the only thing worse that having a daughter just like you is having one just like your mother.” When I look at Maeby, I can easily see myself at her age, and writing about things that rocked my world then hits me hard, though it’s got to be therapeutic on some level.

It’s kind of weird being this age and writing about things that happened when I was very young (and not so very young)—things I hadn’t thought about for a while. Of course, memories best forgotten and latent emotions have been conjured up. But by writing my answers, I’m beginning to see how the puzzle pieces of my life fit together. Especially the dark pieces that seem to have neither rhyme nor reason. You know, those things in life that happen that never make sense at the time and leave you wondering, “Why did THAT (have to) happen?”

I feel as though I’ve been given the key to understanding so many things, and truthfully, I am amazed at what I’m learning, now that I’m looking at things in retrospect. They say that hindsight is 20/20 and the older I get, the more I find that to be true. Our past is always something we can learn from. Maybe insights on my hindsights will shorten Life’s learning curve for my children’s children’s children. I hope so anyway.