"THERE IS SIMPLY THE ROSE"

There comes a time in ones life when you realize you're not as young as you once were. And when you hit that point in life, you also realize that there's no going back. You can be surrounded by young people and feel their energy and become so entranced by it and part of it that you feel you are as young as them. But you're not. They know it and see it but you don't. You'll look in the mirror and see you, and you see what you've always seen, though maybe you acknowledge, reluctantly, that you've changed and continue to. And seem to faster these days.

If I could say anything about life after 35 is that aging speeds up. I feel from 25 to 35 I didn't change that much. Weight would go up or down sometimes, but "I" stayed the same physically. But that's changing now. And how do I feel about that?

Well, I guess I realize I can't be lazy anymore if I want to take care of myself. And I have been lazy. I have been blessed (thank goodness) with a pretty healthy existence here on planet earth. (knock on wood) I have heard SO many horrible stories of bad health problems assaulting people and laying them low. I know people who have been killed by them.

There's a girl in the summer theater camp where I work who's mother passed away years ago from some crazy brain issue. I don't remember what. Some kind of growth or disease that withered her and put her in her grave in a short amount of time. A rare thing. Out of the blue.

I performed with her mother two times in my life, in the musicals Camelot and West Side Story with a local community theater group. I always liked her. She was always sweet, funny and friendly, and was a talented actress, dancer and singer. Her husband, a man I've performed with in the same shows, and who has been my director in another show, has never remarried. Their daughter is now 10 or so and I met her today for the first time and she said her father told her about me. She seemed to like that I knew him. I don't know why but I felt some kind of connection with her. Or felt one from her to me.

I didn't know if I should mention her mother or not. That I knew her too. She was 3 or so when her mother died and so I guess she doesn't even remember her, though I know full well she's been well informed about her. I eventually told her I performed with her mother. I'm guessing I'm not the first person she's met in our area who's said that to her. Her mother performed with so many people. She didn't seem saddened by that and just nodded her head with a smile. For some reason I wanted her to know I knew her mom and enjoyed spending time with her. I guess as she grows older and maybe wants to know more about her as she becomes a woman herself, the number of people who knew and spent time with her mom will grow smaller and smaller.

And it brings me back to the overall passage of time and of life in general. How this woman I knew had a daughter and not long after, was taken from her. And now here is her child, growing up fast and heading towards her own adulthood. The connection and thread of life continuing. They also have a son who was 5 when it happened. And life goes on. Its amazing. Maria, her mother, is gone but they are not. She's part of her son and daughter. And always will be.

I don't know why I went down this road. But it makes me think of my own life and how I'm getting older and I have no 10 year old daughter of my own. I have no children, no thread I'm leaving behind. I have an older brother and a younger sister that have children. My amazingly cute and (also) quickly aging nephews. The oldest is two. They carry the family genes in them and so on that front I spoze my biological duties have been fulfilled by my siblings. I could have another nephew who comes out looking and acting like me. With my quick wit, amazing good looks and unlimited athletic ability. (cue barf)

I guess at the end of the day there comes a time in ones life when you realize you're not as young as you once were. And when you hit that point in life, you also realize that there's no going back. And its an interesting feeling is all. Makes you wonder where you've been and why. Where you're going and why. And how you maybe never thought about it as clearly before. Never noticed. Or didn't want to. Thinking you were still as young as the youth around you. Choosing to see what you wanted.

But I don't mind appreciating the process. Taking time to smell and observe the roses. For they're beautiful in the end. Always beautiful.

"These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower, there is no more; in the leafless root, there is no less. Its nature is satisfied, and it satisfies nature, in all moments alike. There is no time to it. But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

MJW