Aging

It began when I dropped a ceramic pie dish for no apparent reason. Expensive, but replaceable. Not a big deal I thought, just my new clumsy self. But the next day when I tripped going up the stairs and sprained my ankle, I questioned that it was clumsiness. And when I fell off my bicycle, again for no apparent reason and tore up the left side of my body, I became concerned—really concerned.

Amazing things are heard when people think you can't hear or are too old to comprehend their insults.

I was concerned when I came home and couldn’t find my mother. The back of the house has a steep incline off the deck that leads to a forested area. When I saw that the gate leading down the stairs was open, concern turned to panic.

Since both my wife and I have hearing problems, when we speak to each other in different rooms, our conversations can become the basis for a sit-com on aging.

Attractive, slim and 70, she squeezes soft wax into ears, and turning to me says, “You’ll like it.”

When my wife suggested that we go to a guest ranch for our wedding anniversary, I could see no way out. For years Wendy had been making the same suggestion, and for years circumstances had always (fortunately) intervened. This year, alas, there wasn't an excuse in sight. Worse, our son was attending a college within 2 hours of 15 different Arizona guest ranches. It was hopeless. I was fated to spend 4 days with wannabe cowboys dressed in sequined shirts and pointy-toed boots.

The radiant Gulf sun rises from behind ancient mangroves and egrets snatch prey with lightning beaks as I push the canoe into brown waters.