Growing Older

Above: The Blue Spruce tree is sturdy and strong, yet when I pass her and her sisters in parks, they remind me of ladies in waiting, in ballgowns with full skirts. They have fit legs, sure footing, no flimsy satin evening slippers. They can withstand storms, wind, heavy snow and drought. Dad planted Blue Spruces. They are resilient. Marriage takes resilience, too. Image from here.

Yesterday was our 32nd wedding anniversary.

We are older, and it shows. Our lives do not involve plastic surgery or constant workouts. No miracle serums. Our hair is thinner. I have a deep furrow in my brow when I think hard, or care hard, and I do both a lot. 

We don’t have a Nutribullet juicer or a fancy sports car bought at a peak of our lives. This is not Beverly Hills and we are not on our third marriages. 

I recently became the owner of low-prescription glasses for driving at night; they are tucked in the glove compartment. Dan is having some lower back pain. We both seem to be stooping a bit.

But we do still have strong hearts and a commitment to gardening as best we can, putting bulbs in the ground and hoping for beauty, composting old lettuce and fruit peels, making good coffee every morning. And a commitment to being good parents, again, as best we can. We like music, new and old. Tonight, we stole away to dinner at Le Salbuen on Walnut Street in Montclair.

What is that music playing? we asked as we sipped our coffee in modern white cups. Our server, a handsome young man, checked the Chill Radio stream. It was “Sea of Blue,” with beautiful piano notes. We both wrote down the name in the notes sections of our phones. Then we stopped for rations on the way home: four pizza slices for teens, five cans of Fancy Feast for Nina, two low-sugar treats for me since I did not indulge in the chocolate mousse, warm brownie with peanut butter, flan or Nutella croissant. (Dan loved the flan.)

We still write, as we did when we met in our twenties. Then, we had typewriters and Wite-Out at our desks, and now we have slim laptops (though Dan still uses an old Remington for 60-Second Novels).

I looked around at the small tables in the restaurant. We are older now, Dan no longer the young dad, proud he snagged a table on a Saturday night, and I no longer the chic mom in Burberry scarf and strappy black heels. They are the ones who pay a sitter $15 an hour and swoosh out of the house. We feel a little tired walking back to our car.

I feel confident at 62, confident in my style, my colorful life, my laughter, my writing and my hard-won wisdom. Beautiful, even, as I age, in the right light and right pants and especially with a blowout, pedicure and Nars Velvet Matte Lipstick Pencil in Dragon Girl*, which brings out my blue eyes. I can carry myself with goodness and grace. I am happy tonight for my pink cashmere, V-neck tennis sweater, acquired thanks to a $200 gift card won in a shopping night raffle at Stitch years ago. I do not take for granted the riches in my life; the people.

And yet.

It’s too much to keep writing about. I am grateful for our blessings and sorry for our struggles. I pray for both of us to find the strength, wisdom and grace to see them through, clearly and calmly. 

I hope, and I pray. And I try to accept the things I cannot change.

*My dear Figgy introduced me to this product when she did my makeup on Christmas Day in Maine.