We don’t all age the same. The evidence is all around us: some struggle while others soar and it isn’t always easy to explain exactly why.
Of course the genetic lottery matters: through no fault of our own we can be saddled with creaky and cranky bodies at any age; through no virtue of our own we can enjoy robust good health from start to finish.
Of course the situational lottery matters: some get parental neglect, societal disadvantages, geopolitical turmoil; some get loving albeit imperfect parents, healthy communities, peaceful times.
Of course our choices matter: we can waste our lottery winnings, whatever they are, or we can make the most of them. We can do both at different times.
But at this time, for me at least, the lotteries have been played, the choices made. It’s too late to make big changes in my circumstances. What I have is one remaining degree of freedom: how I go out. Not that I’m getting ready for anything imminent, you understand, but as I always knew but now know-in-my-bones, we’re not guaranteed tomorrow and even today can be uncertain.
At a shopping centre near my home, all green growing things have been subject to roughly the same growing conditions. This fall, some are fading away. Leaves that in other years would have been a bright orange/red, this year are bronze at best.
But some are going out with a bang.
I don’t blame the faders-away, but I take some inspiration from the out-with-a-bangers. Do they have any input into their last action for this season? I don’t think so.
Do I? I hope so.
