On GROWING Old

 

Lincoln National Forest, near Cloudcroft, New Mexico. June 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.

It occurred to me the other day

That growing old

Is to 

Flourish

Bloom

Open

Widen

Germinate.

We don't fall old, spill old, tank old, wither old, shrink old, dry old, mold old. We don't describe our evolution as we do structures and geographical features: decay, dissolve, rust, melt, erode or degenerate. 

The verb we use counts for something. 

We grow old. 

A former colleague of mine, Jessica Terrell, wrote this journal entry while on the 2002 American Frontiers: A Public Lands Journey: 

My Favorite Day

… I know that when I return home, friends, and family will be asking “So what was your absolute favorite place on the whole trek?” 

What will I tell them? I will start out by saying that every day inevitably seemed better than the last. “Seemed” is the key word, you must realize. 

If I were to mix up all the days of the trek and do it all over again, each new day would never cease to “seem” better than the one before it! 

So I have come to the conclusion that TODAY will always be my favorite. 

The dawn of each new day has and will continue to reveal to me things that have never before occurred, and never will occur again, whether it be a beautiful cloud formation over a particular mountain, the call of elk on a cool morning in a national forest, or even the way rocks glitter in the brightness of the afternoon sun.

To grow old is to dwell and revel in today, informed by all of my experiences and observations and studies from the past, recent and long ago. 

Jessica did not have the luxury of growing old.