Seven Years to Fifty


A blog I follow had a suggestion to write a piece using the letter of the alphabet as the first letter of each line, making a 26 line bit of prose.  This was mine.  Enjoy.

About age 45 I realized I was going to turn 50.

But I wasn’t ready, I realized.

Can’t be turning 50 already, I thought.

Death just around the corner, I contemplated.

Even if I have no choice in the matter.

Fact is everyone turns 50, if they’re lucky.

Going to keep getting older.

However, I didn’t feel old.

In fact, I felt the same way I did at 20, 30, 40, except for a little slower and more tired.

Just when I thought I had life figured out.

Kicked me in the ass, turning 50 did.

Like nothing I’d experienced before.

Menopause.

Never thought you’d look forward to that.

Oh, sure, you say, getting older beats the alternative.

People age, it’s the way the world works

Quit complaining about aging and just enjoy your life.

Right.

Sit back and keep doing the same thing I’d been doing for the previous 50 years.

Take ibuprofen for the pain.

Unleash you’re inner old lady.

Visit old folks homes, get familiar with what’s coming.

We can’t hide from aging.

Xactly.

Yet I want to try.

Zebras get old too.

6 thoughts on “Seven Years to Fifty

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