(An aside: 1000 Words of Summer is a lofty goal, but it isn’t sustainable for someone like me who thinks in short bursts. I want to continue challenging myself to post (almost) every day in June, and to be less precious about the whole process, but (1) have you met me, and (2) HA!)
I’m in a reflective, nostalgic mood tonight because I’ve been in a lot of pain these last few days, and the pain has kept me from being able to write as much as I’d like. I know voice dictation software exists, but I always find dictating text and editing it later is one step too many, and the words never flow quite the same way when I speak versus when I write/type.
I’m feeling nostalgic about having a body that didn’t know pain. One where it didn’t matter how I slept or for how long, I’d be a beast the next day, ready to take on whatever the world threw at me. Now I wake up, take inventory of which parts hurt, which ones don’t, and do some mental math to figure out how long it’ll take me to get out of bed.
I miss not needing two different pairs of progressives (and at least 3 pairs of reading glasses) just to watch tv, use my computer, or walk through my apartment.
I miss not having to carefully consider the consequences of something so mundane as going for a 30-minute walk or having sex with my girlfriend. I miss being carefree, reckless, and a little irresponsible.
But the things I’ve gained because of aging into this body — the wisdom, the unshakeable sense of self, the ability to luxuriate in and celebrate those things that others would have me feel shame for — I’d never give any of those things up for knees that didn’t creak or a neck that doesn’t get stiff when it’s too cold.
And now, away with you — I have Salonpas patches to apply everywhere.