I have a confession - I have a fear of growing old and old age.
I don't know where this fear came from. It may be the fact that I fear the slow degeneration of the body. The gradual loss of function and mobility. The unyielding ticking of the clock that signifies my body breaking down and not being able to repair itself as efficiently as it once did. I fear each day when my hips don't work as they did. When the wrinkles on my forehead get a little deeper. When the veins and sunspots on the back of my hands get darker.
I fear waking up in the middle of the night disoriented and unable to get out of bed for the simple process of going to the bathroom. I fear the loss of my mind, my memories, my recall. I fear the slow death of old age.
But doesn't everyone? Isn't that why there is a multi-billion dollar industry to preserve youth? Isn't that why Florida was first colonized searching for the fountain of youth?
Yet my fear also fascinates me. It fascinates in that it is almost beautiful the way wrinkles appear on the face and tell a story about the person's life.
If I could get the wrinkles without the breakdown of bodily function and mobility, I think I would be ok with old age.
This has really come to forefront in my mind because recently an older man is wanting to court me. He is 20yrs older that me and his body has taken a beating from his pre-conversion life. I can see the loss of elasticity in his skin, the wrinkles on his forehead and hands. And it scares me.
The Bible talks about loving the wife of your youth. It talks about life-long commitment to a husband or wife. What if that life is already half spent? What my mind is circling around is the fact that if I marry this man, I won't have time to enjoy being married and being young with him. I will get to watch him go from old to older. There is no clock reversal. There is no way for me to live with him when he was my age. His father died when this guy was my age.
At first I thought I would be ok with it since it has been done in the Bible and in literature. Famous couples as in Ruth and Boaz, Issac and Rebecca, Mary and Joseph as well as Jane and Mr. Rochester, Marrianne and Col. Brandon, Emma and Mr. Knightly all came to mind when I was first thinking about it.
While those marriages thrived, I was kinda hoping for someone more my equal in intelligence, maturity, AND age. Is that an impossible hope?
Or am I being too unrealistic? Here is a guy who REALLY likes me, likes everything about me, is smart, intelligent and loves how expressive I am. He is established and rooted. He is mature and capable. He wants to travel and to learn how to have fun with me. He's good with his hands to fix things and build things. He's just 20 years older than me.
I just don't know if I am ok with that.
I've been in Florida for three years now. Kept the blog pretty consistent 3 years ago at the specific request of my family and close friends who wanted to know how Disney was going for me.
A year ago one of the original bloggers put up some BEAUTIFUL little scenes from J.R.R. Tolkien's world.
And now, I wonder if anyone who WAS reading this blog has stopped checking because nothing was put up in over a year. Or three.
I'm not a writer. I try to tell people this. I don't have this desire to write my thoughts, my characters, my views and opinions down on paper. There are small moments in time when I stumble across the opportunity (like now) and it seems natural to put my thoughts down. I just don't do it. I LOVE reading. I will read blogs and short stories and status updates to catch up with friends thinking that is exactly what I'm doing. Instead I'm just a spectator and not a participator. I fool myself into thinking that my reading, my voyeurism IS participation. My imagination can be so vivid that even with a status update, I feel like I am there, hearing it from their own mouth or seeing it with my own eyes. I don't realize I'm NOT there and I'm NOT seeing it with my own eyes.
And then the realization has hit that I haven't actually TALKED or WRITTEN to these friends in YEARS. I feel like I'm still a part of their life. They feel like they've gotten a cold shoulder.
I don't MEAN to do it. I don't REALIZE I'm doing it. I'm not a writer. I never was.
So forgive me, you who still wander onto this blog randomly. And THANK YOU for your patience and loyalty. If you are there, even if I haven't talked to you in years, can you comment and let me know you are alive?
I may be writing more soon. Sooner than three years at least. I think I've been bitten by a bug and I may actually write on a more frequent basis. I've been alone with my thoughts a lot lately and, it seems to me, to help to relieve the tension building in my brain, I might start writing about it.
But no promises. I'm not a writer, remember?