Talking to Myself Sixty

Talking to Myself Sixty January31, 2021 At this age--eighty-three--I think about the rest of my life. How many more years? I'll never know, but is it important? Probably not.Good things keep happening.. I woke up shivering, but I managed to cocoon myself and sleep another hour Taking off my covers feels risky, but I take the risk, add my serape to my costume for keeping warm, then my blanket. Toast and tea help. Outside snow is falling, the weather page tells me, and it won't get above 34. I'll make bread today and read a favorite author,heat the left over pizza, and Tim will start the woodstove earlier than ususal. Today matters. Each day brings a new surprise. My seventh grade boyfriend calls me up. His wife has dementia and he's depresed., but we laugh. My therapist' of the 80s to whom I dedicated my obook about teeens, writes to thank me and signs her letter "fondly." We're starting a vegetable garden. Janet has already planted onions and garlic and is readying rows for sugae snap peas. It will stay cold today, but we have wood and fire-starters, plenty of lemon grass tea.By suppertine we'll have fresh bread. I'll read the author I love best., walk indoors, make notes in my diary,laugh at Tim's Southern accent drink more hot tea and remember to enjoy each day's new surprises in a warm home.