Well, I've got to sixty. And more remarkably, so has Paul my husband, the Hardy to my Laurel. A & E has been his second home over the years, so I hope he's slowing down a bit now! I am in flux between two emotions at present; gratitude for having lived this long, and disbelief/horror at how old I am. There's not a lot I can do about it other than to grasp everything that comes my way with my arthritic hands and make the most of it. That's my resolution for my new decade.
Buoyed up by a tough but successful Tuesday morning Ashtanga class this morning, and the kindly comments of some classmates about this very blog, I glided towards the Ladies before cycling home. Juggling a bag, coat and cycling helmet with my thick winter gloves nestled snugly inside, I decided to rest the helmet in the sink. No chance of it falling from there. I used the loo and came out to the sound of running water. Hot, fast running water, cascading frothily into my helmet and onto my gloves. My stupidity astounds me! When I want to wash my hands, I waft them lamely around in front of the sensor for ages before water emerges. I find those sensors really tricky. My helmet, however, has it sussed on its first attempt. Pride in my achievements somewhat diminished, I rode home with water dripping down my face from my helmet, and soggy gloves. Good job it's not far.
I'm enjoying the extra yoga, and really starting to feel the benefits. Now that my waking, and often sleeping, life isn't dedicated to teaching I am able to go to yoga 4 mornings a week. I like the routine too, if I'm honest, as it gives my days some shape. Lately, as I'm not struggling simply to strike the pose now, I've started to pick up on some of the instructions that Helen gives about straightening legs/arms, or the pushing, pulling, flexing of various bits, and I'm working so much harder. Bits of me now ache after yoga that I've never felt in that way before. Aching in a positive, feeling stronger, way I think... When I'm off on my travels next spring I intend to take my mat so that I can sustain this. I can join you on Zoom from a beach in Portugal maybe! Maybe.
We're very nearly at the shortest day. After that I regularly take great pleasure in looking at the weather app to see how many more minutes of daylight we'll get tomorrow. The things I do to help me through the gloom of winter. I'm generally OK if the sun shines during the day, but greyness casts a shadow on my mood.
Christmas falls nicely to jolly up the grey days. Lily is full of excitement this year, which is gorgeous. Her elf has returned to keep an eye on her for Santa, and her reaction to his antics makes everything worthwhile. She and I were making Christmas cards yesterday, something I didn't have the time or imagination to do with my own children. Sorry girls, I realise that I'm much more fun as a Nanny than I was as a Mum.
There's no rewind button on life, but there are many things I would try to do better. On the way to the funeral that I told you about last time, Paul's mum asked him if he'd had a good life. He replied that he had, and was looking forward to more in the future. His mum had told me one Christmas that she'd had "a shit life", a statement that saddened me greatly. Paul's dad died of cancer in his early 60s, and her dad died with dementia when about 80, but other than that her life has followed a pattern fairly standard for the time. Work and marriage, then children and looking after the home. After her husband died, she was lost as he had been the leader in their life, and she's never taken up the role. Very sad. And a real incentive never to be in a position to make that same statement. My first 60 years haven't been perfect; I've made some bad choices, been too cowardly to seize opportunities, played too safe. I've not done too badly, however, and I shall make certain going forward that I enjoy my time, my family, my everyday life, and choose happiness every step of the way. Who knows how long the road is, after all?
See you at yoga in your Christmas leggings (no, I'm not getting any, sorry Helen)!
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