When I moved to the boonies looking for peace and space, the former which by the way has eluded me and the latter which has to be mowed every five damned days, my children were small. I guess I thought they'd be with me forever. But now they are both gone. My son turned twenty a few days ago, and each time I see him it is for shorter periods.
When we first moved, we had a next-door neighbor that I met once. I can't remember whether she was 70 or 80, but months after we moved in, she had a stroke and her daughter put her in a nursing home, I believe. Then she died.
I think of her sometimes, and now that I've turned sixty, and my son has definitely gone, I see myself going that same route. No family, except for when I can no longer live on my own, at which time they swoop in and send me to a nursing home and sell my house to pay for it.
So, I wonder, why am I working so hard to lose weight and maintain my health, what am I living for? Why worry about paying off the mortgage? What am I living for anyway?
So I want to have a drink or five, which I know won't do the trick, and engage in a little binge eating, which will make me feel like shit tomorrow.
So I just try to take one step at a time. Just like my neighbor did, just as so many of us do to cope with being alone, as we grow old.
No comments:
Post a Comment