Middle-Aged?

What the heck is middle-age?  I have found that I am referring to myself as middle-aged more and more lately.  As a matter of fact it is the tag line of my blog.  When I look to find blogs that would be relevant to me I search middle-age.  The odd thing is I keep reading about people in their mid and late thirties.  Quickly doing the math in my head, I realize that I am planning on living until ninety.  My middle-aged husband apparently will be living until ninety-six.

Wow, what is middle-age?  Did I miss it already?  If I missed it does that make me…old?  No way am I old!  I know it because I certainly don’t feel it.  I mean, I still feel like college was just yesterday.  My son hates it.  He thinks I’m crazy to think I can actually relate to his feelings of preparing to go off to college for the first time.  But really, I remember it like it just happened.  I guess this is how my mom felt when I left home.  Sorry mom!

Technically, I can live until ninety.  My grandpa lived to be ninety-six so I still have some time to call myself middle-age.  But then what?  At fifty what do I call myself?  I’m pushing it to say I can live until one-hundred.  I vote for getting rid of labels.  Yup, no more labels.  You are what you believe yourself to be.

I really need to throw math out the window.  After crunching the numbers to realize middle-age really isn’t the most accurate label for me, I started to think about my parents.  They are in their early seventies.  They have always been youthful, camping, hiking, canoeing, biking.  But when I do the math I realize that my time with them is becoming limited.  Ten year, fifteen years, twenty years at the max, that is all the time I have left with them.  That may sound like a lot of time if you are ten but to me it isn’t enough.  I already know how fast time passes.  I’m not ready!  I actually have never taken the time to even imagine my life without my parents.  I know it’s kind of stupid, they aren’t spring chickens and no-one lives forever, but I just never thought about it.  They have been the one thing that has always been there for me.  They are like the sun and the moon…they are always there.

So back to middle-age.  How old is middle-age?  I don’t know and I don’t care.  If I do the math it is just depressing.   What I do know is that time is passing and no-one lives forever.  So I am going to live each day embracing life and the people I love.  I’m not going to waste whatever time I have left worrying about whether or not I am old.  Today could always be the last day for me or someone I love, so I won’t leave anything unsaid and the words from my mouth will not be negative or hurtful.  A smile and a kind word will be what I am remembered for not how old I am.

Sorry just another moment of rambling from a ____________ woman, mother, wife, sister, daughter.  I’ll leave the adjective out.

What do you think middle-age should be?

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