It came to me in one of those in-between flashes, this very morning, while Dennis was giving me the usual range of motion…and the range of emotion opened on demand. I remembered the many years of my life in which I conceived of myself as hopelessly, and unfortunately, single. Unlovable, not good relationship material…somehow a loser in this regard, a chronic failure. And it is not as though this is a state secret, nor something obscure and distant. No, this is the truth of only a few decades ago. Meaning, it’s quite accessible in the present. And it is more or less part of the present. Or it should be. Just enough of a reminder of where I’ve been.

Better, a reminder of where I am…or could be, in terms of appreciating what I have. Jane. Our life together. Simply put, this is what I dreamed of having in more lost, desperate and needy times. Which is to say, a good two thirds of my life.

Since I am currently so focused on my aging and inevitable decline, this awareness balances the picture. Call it life’s profit-and-loss statement. My account is running positive. In the black. Perspective is everything.

Change is everything else. I have enough travel planned for the autumn. It is easy to conceive of two or even three additional family-related trips. No. Everything is telling me to stay put in our house. Where we have our life.

This reality wars with another…the sense that I have to prove what I can still do. And the antidote to that…just let go. Age like everyone else. The latter being tricky with a disability, because the baseline is so distorted. For years I’ve encountered increments of worsening disability. And there’s more to come, of course. All of which I resist. And yet, I’ve made it through the other stages, all unwelcome. And here inexplicably I am.