Today is my birthday. I am in stealth mode for birthdays from now on. Getting older is only what children and teenagers want to do. For a writer I don’t project much into the future. My imagination doesn’t like conjuring what more gray hair and wrinkles will look like on me. I don’t want to contemplate how much further untethered parts of me are going to droop. In fact, I have a con for all the pros of aging:
Wisdom-What good is it if you can’t remember any of it?
Inner beauty-Too bad it doesn’t show up in the mirror.
Patience-She isn’t in the car.
Contentment: Pay attention, all these are cons.
Peaceful sleep: Who sleeps?
Grace: She hasn’t been seen in years.
Tranquility: Again, all cons.
Wisdom: Oh, forgot I already mentioned that.
Balance: Any heel higher than one inch is dangerous.
Faith: Aren’t her sisters Patience and Grace?
Maturity: I’ve been that for decades, it just got me more responsibility.
Responsible: Synonym for blame.