I feel it. I know it’s there. It’s a hint of what’s to come perhaps. A peek into my future. Neither good nor bad, just is. Picture yourself hearing a distant rumble before a powerful thunderstorm rolling in. It causes you to pause and question whether something really happened or you’ve just imagined it. That, my friends, is the very moment it’s already begun.
A month or so ago I heard the distant rumble. I attended our Annual Kick-off Dinner for the football Coaches Significant Others. It’s a chance to meet new staff additions, hug the ones ya’ know and catch up before the season charges in. Always enjoyable because football coaches tend to choose life partners who are independent, efficient, adaptable, smart, strong, resilient and generally exude positivity. Yes, I may be a bit biased, but I also know this to be true through years of experience.
But with those years comes the “honor” of being the oldest on our staff. Yes, I know my husband has been coaching over 30 years. I am keenly aware most of the other coach’s children attend school. I see I am the only gray haired one in group pics. I notice my game day attire doesn’t particularly match up. This isn’t a pity blog, though. It’s merely a reality check.
I remember starting out as a coach’s wife and being drawn to the older wives and the comfort, motherly hugs and sage advice they shared. It seemed they always knew just what to say. They were wise, witty and had an air of calm about them. Or was it a don’t give a sh*t attitude. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but I stand in their shoes today. Like them, I’ve seen a lot. I’ve survived many moves, said goodbye to many friends and neighbors, acclimated to new communities and attended too many football games to count.
It’s an honor and privilege to step into this role, but it comes with a price. That price is aging and it hit me dead in the face on a trip with fellow football team spouses. We boarded a bus for an away game, shared some bubbly and wonderful conversation. Our first stop had to be a bathroom. There were about 11 of us and just one working bathroom. A man walked up to see us in this forever line, and me, being my kind self said, “We’ll give you Headsies if you like?” And with that one sentence as he was eagerly running away, I drew a deep aged line in the sand.
Mind you, not a bad one, as we’re all still laughing about it to this day, but one there was no turning back from for me. I was now the old lady who says unintentionally inappropriate stuff. The stuff that was perfectly innocent in my day, but not these days. You see, “headsies” was a kind gesture of letting someone get ahead of you if there was a long line. Today it is an entirely different type of kind gesture. Times and language change. Every generation at some point realizes the history they were taught in school sometimes becomes defunct or worse proven invalid and very politically incorrect when spouted later in life.
As that young girl I also wished for time to pass quickly so I could grow up and sleepover at a friend’s house. I dreamt of the day I would finally get my period like all my friends and wear a bra. I saved eagerly for my very own car and a place to live on my own. Most of my life I couldn’t wait to be a teacher, wife and mother. But with my 60th birthday on the horizon, I’m seeing age differently. There is absolutely no way I am living 60 more years and therefore wishing now for time to slow down.
Are the rumbles I hear getting louder and more frequent, or are those my knees creaking? Am I working out harder or is getting sore just easier? Has my hearing changed a tiny bit or have I finally mastered the art of selective hearing? Am I getting more forgetful or do I just really enjoy retracing my steps all day long? Is my ability to retell the same story to the same person the work of a skillful torturer or someone proficient in forgetfulness? And who knew I had such a knack for creating new passwords every single time I log into my endless accounts?
As with life, there are pros and cons. I am healthy and happy therefore fortunate to be alive and aging. I work out and go walking most days. I have people I love to share my stories with and who love to listen. I move and go more than I sit. Sure, I don’t always remember why I go upstairs, but today, at least I’m still climbing those stairs.
Moral: Aging requires a new level from you. You’re gonna have to embrace change to get to the other side.
just being realistic,
A little thing you should know: A family friend passed away and left behind a simple black lock box. I was so intrigued by the concept and what might be inside, but alas it was filled with just important paperwork. I’ve decided to follow suit, except I plan to paint flowers all over my box and fill it with not just the important stuff but letters and mementos for those I love, untold stories and any other things I deem worthy. That is, unless I forget.
Another thing: Love and gratitude to all the beautiful football faces I included in this blog xo, allison