Today, I saw a squirrel take a 30-foot tumble from a tree and spring back up as though nothing had happened.
Why can’t I be built that way? Sans the bushy tail, natch, but sturdy like that. And able to scamper up trees. (Even as a kid, I was terrible at that particular activity. Oh, and never say shimmy up a tree – it’s shinny. Seriously.)
I’m not as hardy as I used to be.
I’d like to think I’m not from the worst of stock. Crazy stock, maybe, but I hope least one side passed down mental tenacity (OK, stubbornness) and physical endurance along with its touch of bipolar.
I’ve found the older I get, the harder it is to bounce back from anything — a fall, an illness, a long day, a wild night.
Every time Nick and I stay out past 11 these days, we wake up the next day and groggily mumble, “We’re too old for this shit.”
I think we mean it now.
We’re not as hardy as we used to be.
So when bed calls, we answer.