As baby boomers, we can only be realistic about our stage in life: we are an older generation, one of the oldest alive today. That doesn’t mean we must be morose about our age, just mindful. And that’s what longtime journalist Rolland Smith, now of Rifton, New York, writes about today. Having been a New York City television anchorman, a White House correspondent, and a CBS News Morning Show host, Smith has lived a big life. But now, in retirement, his world is smaller, and his perspective perhaps fresh, and welcome.
I saw my first leaf of fall tumble to the ground this morning. Its color was Aspen gold, and it made a gentle, almost slow-motion descent as it twisted, turned and glided to its rest.
How fleeting the seasons are these December days of my life. Each one blends into the other in rapid succession, no wonder I have trouble remembering what day it is.
Life is like that. Youth is a fast slow, often cumbersome in its pace to learn, to grow, to experience.
Middle age is a constant desire to accomplish and even complete things for the future expectations of senior comfort.
Then comes the surprise gift of old age. A time of introspection and the freeing of past regrets. A time for loving yourself for just surviving this density and constriction of time.
Like the leaf that fell this morning, I do not worry about the end. Endings always have a beginning. Nature gives us the seasons to remind us that change is the only constant. Wonder is often the consequence.
Be well, my friends; I have emerged from the chrysalis of silence.