Birthdays come and birthdays go
Like hair, waistlines and memories
The first 21 birthdays we climb the hill of rights
At the peek, we begin the descent into middle age
At 40 we are proud, free, and think we look " good for our age "
As we reach 45, we no longer want people to know our age, the Zsa Zsa Gabor syndrome rules and midlife crisis means upending life and questioning everything and everyone
At 50 we contemplate things like mammograms, prostate exams, and 401K's
The 55th anniversary of our birth means being eligible for AARP, senior discounts and group travels
Between 60 and 65 we have full extended lives, children, grandchildren and volunteer activities
By 70 we're clinging to the twilight of our middle age, hoping to eek out a few more years of golf, tennis or long walks on the beach
75 finds us avoiding the sun like the plague, drinking Ensure and conversing with friends about who's the latest person to have died
The reality of 80 means a happy day to wake up and not find your name in the obits, and new words like walkers, assisted living facilities, cremation, and Alzheimer's enter your vernacular
85 finds women burying their men, grieving their loss of partner and their diminishing quality of life
If 90 is in our life chances, terms like DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) and Power of Attorney are drummed into our caregivers heads while we find ourselves regressing and giving into the secret desire for ice cream or a doughnut, and flirting feels good - because we remember
By 95 we're a miracle who's lived a full life, stealing moments of privacy from nurses, aides and grown children who think they know best, our last ties to independence and self-respect being cut bit by bit
At 100, we're a story on the news, a novelty to be shown around like an antique - and if we have any memory left, we long for nothing more than to do it all again - but THERE not here.

(copyright 2004)  Rose Limongi