Actually the above statement is untrue. I haven’t been to the doctor in over a year. The only medical attention I’ve had recently is getting my COVID19 shot. My doctor, however, is an amazing woman. I miss seeing her, because not only do we have a professional relationship, but I consider her a real friend. I’m happy to say that I’ve been healthier this year than my memory allows. I say that with a little irony, because my memory doesn’t allow me much these days. Aging comes with a price. Your brain is so overloaded with useless information, that it’s really easy to see how it can crash at some point. It’s too bad we can’t place a memory stick inside to collect some of those memories for future reference.

One of my greatest fears in aging is eventually losing my memory completely. Most of the women in my heritage retained their sanity, could relate stories from years ago and seemed to remember every funny thing you ever did, so hopefully that won’t be my fate. However, only God knows how my final years will end up. It’s much better that way. Dwelling on the “what ifs,” could cause severe depression.

I started blogging six or seven years ago as a means of journaling. My handwriting is often illegible, but I can still type. There are things I feel are important to log in, because those thoughts and events are usually fodder for a story or poem. I still have it in the back of my mind to be a stand up comic some day. Anyhow, blogging has allowed me to share some of my life experiences with others and how God has gotten through me through some rough patches. It has also given me a voice which should be reigned in from time to time. I guess you could say my blog is my diary, so you are getting a piece of me when you read it.

Aging brings all kinds of loss. We lose our hearing, our other senses become dulled, our muscles lose their elasticity, our hair falls out and so do our teeth. If we live long enough who knows what else we could lose. Keeping track of our memories is good for a number of reasons. There is so much joy in the good ones. Even the bad memories hold lots of lessons for future use. When we begin to dwell on the bad times and forget the good, we go down one of those dark rabbit holes and often live there for a while. That’s when depression sets in and hopelessness soon follows. Observing and living life and the seasons of aging can keep us sharp mentally as well. After all, the alternative isn’t very bright.