Seventy

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I had a birthday recently. It was one of those multiple-of-five birthdays that seem, for no particular reason, to hold extra significance. This year, I turned seventy, and it does feel pretty momentous…at least worthy of a few sentences.

I’m not bringing it up to invite well-wishes; I’m almost embarrassed at the amount of good attention I’ve received, in cards and greetings, phone calls and gifts.

Social media spreads the word far and wide. My computer was pinging so steadily with incoming messages on the morning of my birthday, I grabbed up my journal, sketchbook and study materials, and went outside to the picnic table. Finding it pleasant in the sunshine, I carried my little trampoline outside, and did my rebounder workout in the side yard, too.

The telephone also kept me busy. I heard from both of my daughters, and several friends. I had to cut one call short, in order to give myself time to get showered and changed for a scheduled lunch in town. That was an indulgent affair, too, filled with gifts and wine and laughter. All in all, it was a joyful and busy birthday, not lacking in any way.

I bring it up today only because it feels deserving of some acknowledgement and thoughtful consideration on my part. I have been on this earth now for seventy years. Life has been good, so far, though I’ve often stumbled along with little planning or forethought. Now, on the threshold of my eighth decade, it seems important to put a little more intention and planning into the years ahead. I have no answers yet, no specific direction, but I’m putting some thought into it.

It started to rain on my birthday, drenching the towels and other things that I’d put on the clothesline that morning. It continued to rain off and on through the night, and into the next day, very heavily at times. Sometime during the night, my clothesline collapsed. The rain has now stopped, the sun is out, and things are beginning to dry out. So, on this day off, I have my work cut out for me.

First, I have to remove all the clothes from the clothesline. Some may still be clean, but most will have to be re-washed. Then, with the post-hole digger, I’ll have to dig a new hole for the post. Just like the one at the other end did last winter, the post broke off at ground level. When I get it planted in its new hole, the clothesline will be shorter, but should still be manageable. Then, after it is secured in place, I’ll be able to get back to washing clothes and putting them on the line.

The clothes have to be hung on the clothesline, because my dryer is making a clattering noise again. Eventually, I need to pull it out, crawl behind it, take the back off of it, and try to figure out the problem. Until then, I’m depending on the clothesline. Which is giving me problems, too.

This is a wonderful example of how life often goes…which is why there is seldom actual opportunity for thoughtful reflection!

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About cindyricksgers

I am an artist. I live on an island in northern Lake Michigan, USA. I have two grown daughters, four strong, smart and handsome grandsons and one beautiful, intelligent and charming granddaughter. I live with two spoiled dogs. I love walking in the woods around my home, reading, writing and playing in my studio.

9 responses »

  1. Happy birthday Cindy. Even though you didn’t want any more good wishes I’m sending you one anyway. And as far as planning goes, mother always said that While man proposes et cetera. Welcome to those of us who have been lucky enough to get to 70 and even 80. Many people we have known did not reach our age. We are certainly lucky. So good luck with the clothesline and the dryer.

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