Off the merry-go-round

At what age do you start thinking about being older?

At 6 when I blew out my birthday candles, I wished to be 10.

At 10, I couldn’t wait to be 12 and get pointe shoes.

At 12, all I wanted to be was 18.

At 18, I longed to be 21, of course.

But by 30, when you feel like you know yourself and are a bit more grounded, you aren’t thinking about getting older. If you’re like me, you were wrapped up in moment after fleeting moment, on a dizzying merry-go-round as all of the events blur by, some muted, but the big stuff bursting in Technicolor. You live for the present. Or at least I did, being the proverbial grasshopper.

At 30, I felt that I had hit my stride and that all the pieces were falling into place. I was enjoying the spinning world, and didn’t give a passing thought to growing old.

Retirement? Pssh. I have plenty of time to plan for that. Having a family? We’ll get around to it. The most planning I did was where to go for a weekend getaway.

Oh, how foolish I was. Three years later, and the future is nearly all-consuming. Now that I’m “grown up,” the thought of aging terrifies me. Not for the typical reasons. Or maybe it’s those and more.

When do you start thinking about getting old?

In some ways, I feel like I’ve aged 16 years in these 16 quick months. Incidentally, Google thinks I am a 55- to 64- year-old woman.

We should be in our prime, Nick says.

Thirty-three, and my body is fighting but frail. Where is that elusive fountain to keep me young?

Having MS has made me confront age a lot faster than I had imagined I would.

Off the merry-go-round and onto the porch swing. Maybe it’s not such a bad trade.