Accepting changes

After a skydive

It's been a long time since I've made a skydive. More than four years, in fact. I was an instructor when this picture was taken. I've always liked this photo, because it shows how happy I felt afterwards. That was true more often than not. Skydiving is part of my personal history, and like so much of my life, while in the past, those memories continue to surface.

For some reason, my dreams have lately taken me back into those years. I loved what I did, and I had many friends who were also with me when we jumped out of perfectly good airplanes together. I woke from a dream the other night where I could feel the air when I leaped out into space. It was very vivid and real. The colors were brilliant and all my senses were engaged. Except I was dreaming it all.

Sometimes I wonder if I could even make a skydive today. I've still got all my faculties, my knees and body still work well enough, and after more than four thousand skydives, surely I would remember how. But would I want to? What compelled me back then? I never let anything stand in my way when I wanted to jump, and long days out at the Drop Zone always left me feeling blissfully tired as I drove home.

Ah, but that was then. Who in the world was that person? Is she still a part of the present day me? Changes sometimes come slowly, and other times they come all at once. Today the injuries I sustained during my skydiving years are beginning to remind me that they will always be there, alongside my happy memories. That is normal, and I have been incredibly fortunate to have become a senior citizen, made it through all these years, with who knows what adventures still to come?

One of my favorite blogging friends, Doris, is now celebrating having written her 100th post. Now for some of you, this doesn't sound like much, but she started writing Engaging With Aging when she turned 95. She's now 97, twenty years older than I am, and she writes with honesty and vigor about her ARCs (age-related changes) and how she copes. Her past posts are essential reading for me these days.

She's got one adventure ahead of her that we will all share: leaving our bodies behind as we pass from this earth. I wonder if I will be able to have so much of my essential me-ness with me as she does, as I move through the rest of my life. Even now, she looks forward to each day and her blog gives her (and me) plenty to ponder about what's left as we each deal with our own individual ARCs.

My biggest fear is losing my eyesight. I realize that it would be harder to lose my sight than just about anything else. Dealing with AMD (age-related macular degeneration) has given me more appreciation for my ability to continue to see well enough to read as much as I want, drive, walk to the bus, perform my yoga routine, or head out on the trails with friends. Of course, anyone who has AMD knows that it doesn't lead to complete blindness, but takes little bits of sight away as it progresses. I have lost much of my ability to see details with each eye, but for now, one eye takes over for the other, and my central vision is unaffected. That's not exactly true, but it's good enough to do all I require of my eyes. For now.

And I've got so much to be grateful for. The place that we've chosen to retire, Bellingham, is filled with all kinds of activities that people across the aging spectrum can enjoy. Art walks, museums, walking trails, and a great bus system that will allow me to get anywhere around town I wish to visit without using my car. Physical activity is possible with even limited mobility. I watch with interest when someone in a wheelchair waits to board the bus. A ramp is extended, and the driver assists the person onto the bus and folding seats give the chair a place to be secured. Even people with rolling walker seats can ride the bus and are able to get just about anywhere they need with our bus system.

And of course, I've got all those memories that resurface in dreams. Have you ever woken from a dream thinking that it happened? Those kinds of dreams have been coming to me more often lately. Last night I dreamed that I was getting ready to leave a party, and the two people who came with me didn't want to go quite yet. I convinced them that I needed to leave, and then we had to travel through an intricate maze back to the car. I lagged behind as they chatted and I used their voices as a guide. Just as I was beginning to lose my way, I woke up.

Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. —Oscar Wilde

And now I am awake and ready to start another day. My tea is gone, this rather unusual post percolated its way out of my fevered brain and will now enter the world. Sometimes I wake up with a sure idea of what I will write, but as you can see, this was not one of them. I hope that the coming week will bring you much joy and happiness, and until we meet again next week, be well.