I’ve been feeling old this morning.  Wanting to head back to bed and pull the covers up to my chin.  Wanting to be alone.

I need to practice the cello before Tuesday’s lesson.  I need to study for my Music Theory exam on Wednesday.  I need to prep myself emotionally for cataract surgery on Thursday.  But sleep sounds like a fine idea.

I walked into Izy Coffee and started talking to an old man.  As I struggled to understand his English, I could feel my life force slipping away.  Not dying … just deflating.

If I was “on” I would have suggested we sit together and share each other’s lives.  But I’m not “on”.

Now I smile when I think of him.  I didn’t learn his name.  He’s 92, never married, no kids, travelled the world.  His smile said it all.  And these words of advice: “Be happy with what you have.  Don’t ask for more.”

Usually I’m the older in the conversation.  Not today.  Usually I’m the more alive of us two.  Not today.  And I accept the dip in my vibrancy.  The unnamed fellow in Izy has taught me.

As did Barbara Marx Hubbard, a futurist who died a few years ago at 89.  When someone asked her about being elderly, she had a quick retort:

“I’m feeling newer!  Not older”

Well said, Barbara

Well said, gentleman of an hour ago

***

Update

I finished writing this post and published it on Jetpack and Facebook.  Then I sat there in Izy and thought some more.

The man-older-than-me was still there.  I walked over and asked to sit down.  He smiled and said something like “Please.”

We talked for twenty minutes or so.  Mostly I didn’t understand his words but I understood his eyes.  I sat there loving him.  His name is Hans.  I took his photo.