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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| March 24th PROMPT: Start your blog with these words: "Five years from now..." Five years from now will be five years into the future. This is a fair stretch of time. Five times 365 days. Five times 12 months. That's a lot of cookies and tea. That's a gazillion words I've rearranged and shaped into stories. Oh, there's bound to be zillions of conversations to remember and far more laughter to rejoice in. My youngest grandgiggle will be a veteran of school. She'll be chattering nonstop in both of our official languages, English and French. There may exist a younger sibling for her to boss around. My eldest grandgiggle will be knee deep in her career and loving it. Her younger sister will be a high school graduate struggling to stay positive about college. Both of them will have broken the family tradition of being young mothers. My hubby will be considering retirement. Strange, but he'll give up long haul trucking to traverse North America in a motorhome. Of course, I'll accompany him, but only after I seriously downsize. He will have made it clear that not all of my plants and my books may travel with us. The tables are turned, and one of my children will be storing my possessions in their basement. Perhaps in the off season, we'll park our behemoth and reside in someone's cellar. Five years from now, my journals, idea notebooks, and folders of my writing will be comfortably ensconced in their own private room. Oh, the pens I will have drained of ink by then. The COVID-19 will be a bitter memory. Every year further on from its pandemic, we breathe a little easier, we relax a wee bit more, and we continue to enjoy life. Five more precious years of memories sustain us. |
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