it's too late...or is it?

there is something unnerving about turning 50. or 80. or 99. about getting a diagnosis of cancer. or heart disease. or a faulty brain. after the fear and shock wear away, you despair about the lost future. you struggle to find enthusiasm about those dreams you once nurtured. you think, why bother? as carly simon sings, it's too late.....and that song becomes your anthem.

it's too late to ever own a spectacular house. or a new dream car. it's too late to fall in love, too late to go to college, too late to write that novel or be interviewed by oprah. forget about that perfect job, the size 10 (or 6 or zero) that you have long aspired to, climbing everest or rafting down the colorado river. i am reminded of a snippet of a  poem about hope...hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly. can't seem to stop your personal pity party?  visit your local nursing home and glance into the faces of the forgotten residents. that is what living without the hope of a brighter tomorrow looks like.

there are things i have had to accept at the age of 57.  and with this brain disease. i am too old/too disabled to enlist in the military. i once contemplated that. i probably will never wake up and run a marathon. i am not in shape and i haven't the balance to run. or the motivation. a big possibility?  i am never going to ride an escalator again. but as long as i wake up in the morning, i have the entire day to achieve great things. i can send emails and letters to people letting them know i love them. i can ponder my future and contemplate that trip to ireland....having a balance disease gives the term 'pub crawl' an entirely different meaning. i can work on my writing.  my dad is 89 and still frequents the local library and is always reading. always learning. always interested in something. mom is 87 and gets dressed every day, complete with matching jewelry and perfume, because each day holds possibility. and getting dressed is half the battle.

 we have to remind ourselves that just because the story changes, it doesn't have to end. the secret is to work through the tough bits, pick yourself up and keep going. even when you feel like you are depleted of all enthusiasm.  because as long as you are breathing, you have the potential for so many things...from tripping the light fantastic to sitting quietly enjoying the warmth of the sun...it's all good.