Sixty

I remember when 50 was ancient
when people who were 40 were old
and I thought I would not live to be 30
because after that, well,
I'd be old. And at 20,
I was too young
to know about old.

As the years changed, so did I.
30 was just the beginning I found,
even though my son told me on my birthday
that I should be relieved
because at least I would not die young.
He thought 30 was old.
I did not.
Not when I was 30.

40 was a blur--
school, a son starting kindergarten
as another graduated from college
and another from high school.
Days slipped quickly into full-time work,
classes and assignments, homework
and home work.
Old? Who had time to think about age?
I did not.
Not when I was 40.


50 arrived;
At 50, life was complicated, with family
things--grandchildren, wars, and elderly parents
who had always seemed young
and were suddenly,
well, old. And not well at all.
50's were a time of loss, days of grief
and yes, much joy too, but the grief
overwhelmed all.
I did not feel young anymore.
Not in my 50's.

Now here is 60
greeting me on this hot Solstice day.
I look ahead and see the sun
and happiness, introspection,
a time to evaluate all that went before,
find some meaning and understanding
of this odd path that has been my life.

I know grief, have met sorrow face to face
and I know that it cannot defeat me.
I have known deceit and hurt
and I know it cannot destroy
what is real and true.
I have loved and been truly loved
by many that I call family,
and many that I call friend.
I have been blessed
with a life rich in every part,
and I am grateful today
to say hello to 60.