I went to visit my dear aunt on her 93rd birthday this weekend.  What a treat it was, indeed, as I truly thought the next time I was to make that trip would be for her funeral.  She had been very ill a year ago and now has rallied to a point where it was not easy to tell she had ever been at death’s door.  The light shone brightly from her eyes and made her look more alive than others I’ve seen lifetimes younger than her.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to be 93 any more than I could imagine what it would be like to be 53 when I was a child.  I’m actually still trying to figure out what growing older means, even though I’ve had a couple years of practice at it now.  I wonder if when you are 93 you still think you’re a 19 year old trapped inside this unfamiliar body, like I do today.  I wonder if you stare at yourself in the mirror and see your parents.  I wonder if you still look ahead to what will be or if you finally realize that this is it.

When I’m 93 I hope I am still of sound mind, body and spirit.  I hope I am surrounded by those I love, but if I’m not, I hope I still recognize my loved ones and remember just what I love about them.   I hope I can walk in the sunshine, but if I can’t, I hope I can sit and appreciate the Spring breeze and the smell of budding life about to burst anew.  I hope I can share a conversation and a laugh with friends, but if I can’t, I hope I can remember the times we did.

I hope for today that I can live fully and appreciate what an amazing life I’ve got, so that when I am 93, I’ll have wonderful memories to keep me smiling.