When President Biden made the decision to step away from running for reelection, the discussion in the retirement community, where I live, was for days how old age changes the direction you want to go. I certainly agreed and thought that there were many things besides the direction I wanted to pursue that changed as I aged up. Senior citizen status brought me up short as I retired from a job I loved and began to try to adjust to all the other changes that came roaring in.

Overnight it seemed to me that I needed to change my style of dress. Gone were the pencil-slim short skirts to be replaced with slacks with elastic waists that were easy to put on and easy to remove. The high heel shoes that I thought showed off my skinny legs were quickly exchanged for flat shoes with box toes.  Bunions over beauty was my new mantra. And silk blouses that tucked in and showed off my cleavage disappeared in exchange for cotton T-shirts. Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror showed me an old lady who closely resembled my mother. How weird that image became as I realized that age 85 was not 50 or 60 or even 70.

When I finally adjusted to different clothing, I had to adjust to new diet choices.  Red meat was off the list as were any high-fat items. Sweet delicious mixed cocktails became one glass of white wine or club soda flavored with a tiny dash of scotch. Cakes, pies and cookies had to be measured out to once or twice a month and dessert items needed to be NSA or no sugar added.  What had been the joy of my life to sit down and eat whatever I liked became an exercise in choosing between what I hated and what I just disliked.  Looking forward to dinner was never again the reason to get through a day.

As each birthday came and went, my children became more and more my parents with directives that included: “You need to get a physical, mom,” “Are you taking your meds, mom?” “Did you remember that you have a dental appointment this week, mom?” and I found myself a child under the direction of middle-aged people that I hardly recognized.  While I chafed under their constant orders, I reminded myself that I was fortunate to have children who cared about me. I was not alone in this world as are so many of my contemporaries. However, that didn’t make me feel any less disgusted about the commands I was given.

Travel, which my husband and I loved, soon became a chore rather than a delight. When I turned 88 and my husband 86 (and yes, I am a cougar), we decided that we simply could not venture through another airport or try to sleep on a long flight to Europe. The last time we managed a short trip to Florida, we found ourselves sleeping for the next two days as we tried to recover from that little journey. So, for now there will not be any long trips or short ones either.  We will have to be satisfied with an evening viewing a TV travel-loge from the comfort of our own recliners. As I write this, I know that one of these days very soon, one of my protective children is going to say: “Mom, you need to stop driving. You cannot see or hear, and you are endangering others as well as yourself.”

Not long ago, I read an editorial in the Week magazine in which the writer wrote about taking the car keys from his mother. She cursed at him, and I surely can understand why she did so. That is the final blow to the independence of an elderly person. Still, I am hanging on, but my common sense understands that simply driving at thirty miles an hour is not going to prevent the accident that is waiting just around the next busy intersection. Sometimes I find myself wishing that one of the kids would have the courage to take my car keys away, but for now I will be glad that I have the means to get from one place to another on my own.

Changes that have occurred, because like President Biden, we cannot stop them, have made me see that I will not be able to fool myself into thinking that I am still young.  Young enough to dress like a twenty-year-old, young enough to stand-up to my bossy children, young enough to travel the world, and young enough to drive cross-country.  Those days are gone, and I hope I can be young enough to see the inevitable and give in to my children who are trying to give me a few more years to live.