Her zest for life was contagious. No one could tie her down. When others might hold back and watch from the sidelines, she was front and center. Vibrant, game for everything and anything, she would dive in with excitement and vigor. There was no slowing her down. All we could do was watch from the sidelines and hope and pray her antics wouldn’t land her in harm’s way.
She’d confided she was afraid of growing old, becoming dependent on others to get around, for the fun and joy in life. She wasn’t about to slow down and let that happen. Old age was creeping in faster than she’d wanted as it was.
We had therefore, created a secret collaboration in which (if I thought what she was attempting was too dangerous) I would speak up and she’d listen. Over all, her capers were innocent fun and I applauded her verve.
As I watched her with her grandchildren, playing tag, or involved in some other activity, I hoped that at her age, I could look back on my life and say, “Well done, Missy!” with few regrets and even less concerns about what others thought or said about my antics.