Senioritis

I’m about to become a senior. As in citizen. As in I’ll soon qualify for a $2 discount at Camelot Cinemas.

Ah, the sweet fruits of longevity, mine all mine.

Honestly though, does anybody feel like a senior at 55? I sure don’t. On the other hand, people have been telling me that I’m old for my age since I was in elementary school, so maybe I’m an octogenarian now in whatever sense they mean. An octogenarian who feels like he’s in his 30s, even if he doesn’t look it.

A Christmas Day gathering of neighbors here at the Mill reminded me of my age in a different way. Some of the guests were retired, others semi-retired, and I blended right in. One of us declared flat out that she doesn’t like being around young people, and hell, I’ve been saying the same thing since I was in my 20s.

I’ve also been in what sometimes feels (and probably looks to many) like semi-retirement myself since 2010. Lots of walking and reading, you know. Projects that I invent, others that people invent for me. Many mornings, my biggest decision of the day is whether to walk to Starbucks for coffee at 5:30, or bide my time until Tealoha opens at 8:00. Which reminds me … seniors are early risers, aren’t they?

Yes, we are.

Now get off my lawn.