I often think my life is a metaphor.
We have been living in our house for forty-two years. Amazing, I know! We stayed to give our children somewhere to put down roots. When I was growing up our family moved every few years. New schools, new frenemies, new neighbours, new, new, new. Consequently I have no childhood friends. I envy people who have friends they’ve known since kindergarten.
What about the metaphor?
We are retirement aged baby boomers, still working. I work part time, with a dear friend, doing equine/human therapy, something I have always wanted to do. In my spare time I write, this blog, children’s stories, poems, whatever comes into my head. My husband works from home, full time, and loves his job with a passion. He never wants to retire and in his spare time he plays drums. We have four grandchildren, two horses and two dogs. Our weekends are full of dogs and horses and sometimes we get to spend time with our children and grandchildren.
What about the metaphor? I’m getting there.
Our old house had a makeover a couple of years ago, compliments of our kids. We went overseas for six weeks and the elves visited. It was a lovely surprise. We really enjoyed the fresh new look but it highlighted the need for a fresh coat of paint. Then Covid happened and, like everyone, we couldn’t do much of anything. Now that restrictions have lifted a little we finally brought in help for our ageing house. Painters and decorators who can still kneel and climb ladders without saying “oof.”
We extended the veranda, built a box seat, a retaining wall, extended the car port, we’re about to add more decking and French doors. We installed air conditioning, the bathrooms are about to have new tiles and new showers. It’s starting to look amazing. Every time we fix up one area, it shows up the shabbiness of another. I’m not sure where it will all end.
I wonder, have you noticed how constant change is?
We grow up, move out, fall in love, have kids, (or fur babies) we blink and they grow up and move out and have children of their own. We blink and our parents are ageing and needing more support, we blink and we are the ageing parents. Don’t blink!
Round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows…
What about the metaphor?
Well that’s just it really, life is the metaphor.
The seasons coming and going teach us about birth, life, ageing, dying, only to start all over again. The sun rises each day, the birds sing until it sets and the day ends in darkness, until the sun rises again. The ocean tides rise and fall with the pull of the moon, rivers ebb and flow…
There’s a rhythm, a pattern to all of it.
No matter how much we want everything to stay the same, life continues to change.
We can choose to go with the flow and enjoy each new moment as it comes, good or bad. We can choose to hold this life lightly and be thankful. Anything else is just kicking against the goad.
We don’t know how much time we have on this planet and some of us are getting to the pointy end. Being this age makes me thankful for each new day, with everything it brings. We may be in the autumn years of our lives, our bodies might be starting to let us down, but by now we’re used to change and hey, we can adapt.
I am disappointed we don’t have teleportation yet, but otherwise, as metaphors go, life is pretty cool.