By a Woman Who Is 74 and Still Looking for Her Glasses
I have reached that wonderful age when I can walk into a room with a clear purpose, stop in the middle of it, and stare at the walls as if they might provide a helpful hint.
I call it a senior moment.
Of course, when you’re 74, you can explain almost anything with a senior moment. Forget someone’s name? Senior moment. Lose your keys? Senior moment. Put the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the refrigerator? That’s not confusion—that’s an innovative new breakfast system.
The trouble is, these moments are becoming a little too common.
The other day, I spent ten minutes looking for my reading glasses. I checked the kitchen counter, the bathroom, the bedroom, and even the refrigerator, because apparently I was prepared to read the yogurt label. I finally found them right where they belonged—on top of my head.
Apparently, my glasses and I are playing hide-and-seek, and they have discovered the perfect hiding place: somewhere I can see them without actually seeing them.
Then there’s the matter of names. I can remember what I wore to a party thirty years ago, including the shoes that pinched, but I can’t remember the name of the person standing right in front of me. So I do what any resourceful senior would do. I call everybody “Honey.”
“Honey, it’s so good to see you!”
It works beautifully until two people named Honey show up, and then I have to start describing their hairstyles.
And let’s talk about why we go to the grocery store. I can make a perfectly good shopping list, take it with me, read it three times, and still come home without the one thing I went for. But I will have three bags of things I didn’t know I needed, including a seasonal cheese I bought because the package looked confident.
I may forget the bread, but I’ll remember the cookies. Priorities—and dessert is much harder to toast.
Technology hasn’t made things any easier. My phone has more buttons and features than I will ever understand. Sometimes I call someone by accident, and sometimes I can’t figure out how to hang up. I have ended calls by putting the phone down, pressing every button, and whispering, “Please stop.”
I’m beginning to think my phone has a mind of its own. Unfortunately, it seems to be the only one of us that remembers what it’s doing.
And don’t get me started on passwords. Every website wants a password with a capital letter, a number, a symbol, and apparently the name of my first-grade teacher, her blood type, and a small sacrifice. By the time I create one, I’ve forgotten it. So I click “Forgot Password” and start the whole adventure again.
At this rate, I’ll need a password just to remember my passwords—and a recovery question to explain why I’m standing in the kitchen.
But here’s what I’ve decided: senior moments aren’t all bad. They give us something to laugh about, stories to tell, and a good excuse when we do something a little silly. They also keep life interesting. Every day becomes a mystery, and sometimes the mystery is where you put the remote.
Besides, there are advantages to getting older. I’ve earned the right to speak my mind, wear comfortable shoes, go to bed early, and not care one bit what people think about my hair. If my hair wants to stand up like a startled dandelion, that’s between it and the mirror.
And if I forget why I walked into a room, I just turn around and walk out. Sometimes I even remember what I wanted on the way back.
That’s a victory—and at my age, I’m willing to celebrate anything that doesn’t require finding my reading glasses first.
So, to all my fellow seniors, don’t be too hard on yourselves. We may occasionally forget a name, lose our keys, or tell the same story twice. But we’ve lived long enough to know that laughter is good medicine—and we might as well enjoy the ride, even if we occasionally miss the exit.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go into the kitchen.
I know there’s something I wanted in there.
I just hope it’s not my glasses. If it is, they’re probably on my head, judging me silently.
Until next time, keep smiling, keep laughing, and remember: growing older is mandatory, but growing up is entirely optional!
