Life at seventy

I never imagined old age the way I experience it.

I saw the women in my grandmother's Guest Home sitting around all day. I saw the old farm women coming into town to work at seventy when their husbands died. I met the wealthy women having teas and coffees with my mother-in-law. I saw idealistic articles and stories about grandmas surrounded by smiling little ones as they baked cookies. And I saw couples traveling on buses in foreign lands.

Of course I am only seventy. Things could change rapidly with very little provocation, but my life is mostly solitary during this quarantine. Eating is my big pleasure, reward and bane. I spend a lot of time looking forward to what I eat next and trying to keep it so my blood sugar, blood pressure, kidneys and weight don't get out of whack. I walk for exercise, but my feet, ankles, and the rest of me seem to get a kick out of making this hard.

I read, write, clean my apartment, draw and talk on the phone.

Trips to the library, grocery store and window shopping are out now. 

I am grateful for what I have and can do, but I miss volunteering and going out with friends.

Mostly I feel like I am living in some dystopian reality.