A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.
News this week spoke of an aging woman (102 now, 98 when it happened) who is facing a second-degree murder charge for killing her 100-year old roommate. Today I noticed a friend’s mother’s Facebook post of a letter a former president sent her on her 100th birthday. Later, Mom called to tell me she lunched with friends after church, one of whom brought along an elderly relative who is 100. For me it’s reminiscent of those 100s we used to fight for as school children.
“Don’t even mention being old,” I told Mom. “You’re only 90!”
There is always a lot to be thankful for, if you take the time to look. For example, I’m sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don’t hurt.