My sister, Debbie, and me. I was four years old when this was taken. Deb was one year old.

It’s my birthday today. I have surpassed the age at which my mother died by eleven years and my father by twenty-two. Given how young they both died, I never thought I would reach the age that I have.

I don’t feel old, but most people would call me old. Okay, some days I do feel old physically, but I don’t think of myself as old even if I do refer to myself that way.

While working in the yard, cooking, cleaning, talking with neighbors or even the FedEx guy, or walking our dog, I don’t feel old. But when I look in the mirror, sometimes I wonder about the face staring back at me and how old it looks. It is out of sync with how I feel inside and how I think about myself.

On the occasion of my 56^th birthday, my husband took me out to lunch. I fixed my hair and put on some make-up. I wore a nice dress. He had already pulled the car out of the garage and so I went out the front door.

Just then, a bird high up in the tree in our front yard began to sing. It was a lovely song and totally delighted me. I looked up to find it and just then, my husband snapped a picture of me. The delight I felt is right there on my face. It’s the only photo of me that I have ever truly liked. And it’s the one that I have used for years as a profile photo and also on the back covers of my novels.

Photo taken by my husband, Bernd, on my 56th birthday.

But I’m 71 years old today and it’s probably time for a new photo. I’ve resisted for too many years now. I have to laugh at myself a little because while some people might consider me to be vain, I never have. Yet, I have resisted.

There’s a saying that growing old is not for the faint of heart. I won’t say it’s been easy, but it hasn’t been too bad either. So far.

Thing is, from the day we are born, we are growing older. It only stops when we die.

And then, we are ageless.

Courtesy of Senior Planet