Atrum Visum

I have come to a conclusion.

I don't want to get old.

Now, I understand the realities of life. Aging cannot be halted. But there is a distinct difference between aging and getting old.

I have spent the better part of the last week in Florida on personal business. I have spent most of that time in one of the thousands of planned retirement communities in and around central Florida. Beautiful place. Landscaped, groomed and immaculately kept. All the amenities one could ask for; tennis, golf, social activities, etc.

But. It is populated with OLD people.

They are not much older chronologically than I am. But they are OLD. They act old. They dress old. They talk old. They have accepted being old.

Not me.

I have decided that I will NOT act my age. I will not dress, act, talk or present myself as old.

I reject the idea that I, simply because I have passed a certain number of years, must adopt a lifestyle that I find abhorrent.

I choose to associate and socialize with those nearer my psychological age. So all you 45 year olds better look out.

I choose to dress and act with fashion and style. If you try to tell me I should get a pale blue jump suit and a pair of thick soled velcro closed sneakers, you better be a lot tougher than you look.

I choose to engage in the activities that I find exciting and fun. To hell with board games, canasta, and shuffle board. I want to sweat, grunt, move, jump, run, cuss and swear. I want to push my limits and stretch my capabilities. I want to feel life not watch it go by in a fucking golf cart dressed up to look like a Bentley.

I want to at least one more time, be excited about the possibilities that exist in front of me. I want to know the exhilaration of a woman who looks at me with adoration and love. I want to feel passion and arousal simply because a certain someone walks in the room.

I do not know how much longer I have on this earth. I do know this. The time that I have left will not be spent waiting patiently for the time to come, eating apple sauce and thinking about how good life once was.

I do not intend, when the time comes, to be one who walks quietly and serenely past the pearly gates. I intend to be the last one in, sliding in amid a cloud of dust as they shut the gates, with a smile on my face, the bruises, marks and scars of a life lived to the fullest and to the very end.