Getting older

He says hi, probably because he considers me to be an old, long not seen friend. Or maybe he is just curious what has become of me.
I don`t really feel I know anything about this partially bald man in wrinkled clothes from a long, hot day; fine lines carved in his face in the corners of his eyes, distinguished grey  at his temples and around his ears.
He looks like an adult, a dad, a someone in an office. Still there is something from the boy he used to bein his appearance.

I wonder if I look as old as he does.
It is hard to believe I`m forty... still only fortytwo, not turning fortythree untill September.

The way I feel, it`s hard to believe there`s not a younger me somewhere out there: A me still slim, fit, ripped jeans and cheeky T-shirts.
It`s the enticing past. A past even better than what it actually was. I know I often look at myself in younger years through pink shades, but I like the idea of it being nothing but good times.

I believe it`s like that for all of us. We wish to go back in time, to a time when we were happy. Or more correctly:  time we imagine we were happier than we are today. We tend to forget what hard work it is to be young.
Some times I can`t stand the thought of not being young anymore. I don`t feel much different, and some times, when I pass a mirror and get a glimpse of myself, I wonder how, what, who and when it happened. Why didn`t anyone tell us we would feel exactly the same now as we did when we were eighteen?
Not that it would matter any: we probably wouldn`t believe them.

I thought that when I turned forty I would have... settled down more, in a way.
You know: live a content and boring life. Staying at home every night, never fall in love, and be satisfied living that kind of life.

Then again...: being settled and living that boring, predictable life makes me capable of making things happen. I travel where and how I want to, I can afford to dress how I want (and I am financially comfortable enough to dress down; cheap and out of fashion, if I please), I am now able (timewise, moneywise and familywise) to take riding lessons for my driver`s lisence for heavy motorcycle, I can buy a motorbike which is actually in an ok con  dition, I can go for a walk at any hour of the day without telling anyone or explaining myself to anybody.

I have become a woman who flips the pillow several times during night, so I can sleep on the cool side. I have reached the point in life when I critically measure my "lovehandles", wondering if I should leave them alone, or pick up on the challenge to get rid of (most of) them.
I read my life in my scars and imperfections and wonder if I would want them to be gone.

Regardless of everything: Deep inside I still think exiting things will happen, though.
You never know...

Young and old enough

A little over a year ago I made the decision to write a list over things I never did, but wanted to do and which I am not too old to go through with. Yet.

It was the perfect time for making plans on my “now-or-never”… for specific things I have always wanted to do or see (or both). Most things I do, I do on an impulse (I learned at a young age that plans often fall through due to… well there are many reasons why you must put your own needs and wants aside), but some things needs planning.

My list started off very cautiously:

#1: Go to London by myself again, like I used to do. To walk through museums, streets, markets and parks. Sit on pavement restaurants with a cup of coffee, or a decadent glass of wine. Just enjoy impressions with no one tugging my arm or calling my name.

#2: Getting my house sorted. Everything to have its own place, and everything is to be put at its own place.

#3: Get a driver's license for heavy motor cycle, and buy one. And, of course, ride it.

#4: Go to Bhutan

#5 …..

…. The list goes on with quite a few more things I want to do.

Some things I have to put off a bit, but my first move was to call the driving school and schedule my first lesson and the essential theory course. I bought all the necessary equipment: suit, gloves, helmet and boots and started taking lessons without ever having been on a motor cycle before. I have to be honest with you: The reasons why I wanted to do this were not because I have reached a rebellious stage in life. And yet I do acknowledge I am in my 40s and midlife crisis do hit in the strangest ways at the most inconvenient times. Still waiting for the crisis to hit, though. So far life is getting better each and every day (but that’s another story for another day).

I was thinking that I have been a mother for 18 years. My youngest is now 6 and more independent. It is possible for me to get away now, go somewhere with only room for me, my driver’s license and my visa.

It would also be cool to have a legal excuse for wearing a leather suit at my age (that plan was torpedoed as I ended up with a GoreTex suit). I still look cool, though.

Last, but not least, my workplace is removing all the parking spots; I need to be able to get home if something happens to my kids. I couldn’t possibly wander about waiting for the next bus.

In spite of lacking the initial reason “FUN”, that is what I found when I learned how to ride a motor bike. It is great! I can’t believe I haven’t done this a long time ago. Even though I hate doing things I am not good at: Riding a heavy motor cycle is the most fun I have had in years!

Made me thinking:  As we reach certain ages, we tend to think more about the past and find joy in memories of what used to be. That is so not right. The older we get the more we know about life. That knowledge can only add quality to what we choose to do.

My grandmother was a widow for 11 years, and then chose to marry a man who had never been married before. He had a major crush on her as a teenager. She knew, and yet they had never held hands until they met again. She was 67 when they got married. He was 68. Many thought they were mad, and it was quite scandalous to get married at such an old age. They got 20 adventurous years together.

Life is not over just because of a number. It is not fair to anyone to sit down and wait for the end to come.

I think I am:

Young enough to have emotions. Too old to play those games. Young enough to try something new. Too old to have to like it all. Young enough to have faith in people. Old enough to know everyone isn't good. Young enough to laugh at myself. Old enough to not mock others. Young enough to participate in discussions. Old enough to realize when I’m wrong. Young enough to take defeat. Old enough to be well-equipped for more. Young enough to think ahead. Old enough to accept there has been water under the bridge. Young enough to be excited about the future. Old enough to remember the past. Young enough to love. Too old to carry hate. Young enough to show consideration. Old enough not to expect anything in return. Young enough to wish for more acquaintances. Old enough to choose my own friends and acquaintances. Young enough to live. Old enough to appreciate all the good things in life.