Today is my birthday.
And it would be a perfect day to write about getting old. If I planned on it happening, that is.
I WANT to get older, given that the alternative to getting older is dying. (Can't go backwards; no backsies, 'member?)
|Photo bombed by the cat|
But get old? Not if I can help it.
Getting old is a state of mind, and giving in to it is giving up.
So I will continue to run and slide across my hardwood floors in my sock feet. I will skip whenever my heart feels like it. I will sort my M&M's by color before I eat them. I will startle the cat just to watch him jump. I will sing with gusto in the car and throw in dance moves as necessary. I will eat cookie dough. I will Zumba like a boss. I will use the toothpicks from my sandwich like chopsticks and pick up pieces of lettuce from my plate (purely hypothetical, of course...). I will dance in the kitchen.
|At 5, showing off my twist skills|
I shall grow older, but I shall not grow old.
And you can't make me.
|Should be 53 candles. May be|
a little short, fire codes being
what they are and all....