Living to 100....Are You In?

To think that living until the age of 100 is no longer a fantastical goal is quite astonishing. And to think that I am closer to that once fantastical age than I am to that once whimsical age of twenty is equally astonishing if not a bit daunting. Given that refection, then hell yes I want to live to see 100. But really, do I? What would that look like? What would I look like, and who would it benefit? As I sit in reflection, I vividly remember as a senior in college speculating what it would be like in the year 2000, the year of my 40th birthday. What will I have accomplished? Will I be married? With children? Will I be successful? What exactly did I envision myself doing? And more importantly, with whom will I be doing it with? Back then, that twenty-year span, from my senior year to my 40th birthday seemed elusive, too distant to ruminate. In fact, so much so that I made a pact with a male friend of mine that if neither of us were married by our 40th, we would agree to have a child together. Why would I do that if, at the time, twenty years didn't appear like forever? Admittedly, he was handsome. It wasn't like I would be throwing myself to the wolves. But, neither one of us considered the ramifications of consummating our pact. We would deal with tomorrow's dilemma tomorrow. Just barely twenty, the year 2000 was so far off our radar that it was comparable to waking up and finding ourselves on the "Planet of the Apes." Why is it that when you're young, all you have is time? "Manyana, manyana." Everything was manyana. That was my generation's credo; our doctrine of survival. There's always tomorrow. However, if the wisdom of my past has taught me anything, it's that tomorrow is closer than you think, which brings me full circle to my opening reflection of living to 100, an age no longer quite fantastical as it is impending. Undoubtedly, at the crux of my desire to realize my 100 years is my desire to witness my children's journeys. I want to see who they become and who they choose to become with. I want to watch them evolve into the persons they are destined to be. And I want to be able to impart my wisdom when requested rather than when it was demanded. But given the delay within which I married and had children, it would necessitate me being a centenarian to do so. If going the distance would allow me to finally enjoy all the labor of love that my husband and I endured, I'm in. If going the distance will offer me the chance to savor that moment when one of our children call to complain about their own child's behavior, I could fall and never get up, and still I'm in. And if going the distance would afford me the chance to respond when my children call to ask, "was I like that?" then happy 100th birthday to me 'cause I am in. But as I watch my hands over the keys on my laptop, I can't help but notice the wrinkles and increased age spots that have surfaced, and am somewhat jarred by the realization that they are mine. When did I begin to age? When did I become the oldest of my friends? When did I start walking gingerly from my bed to the bathroom? And when did lowering myself to the ground require focused maneuvering? But then I'm quick to remind myself that I am still someones's child. I still have parents very much alive and very much a part of my life, faithfully calling to touch base for no other reason than it being the next day. That alone preserves my aging process as I watch those same age spots now turn back to freckles. That is the gift they have given me. How to live, not just age. I don't have to search far to contemplate life at 100. I have my parents, my mom in her late 80's, with my dad just turning ninety this year. Their steps may be more deliberate, but they remain active both physically and mentally, with my dad mastering 'zoom' technology and twice weekly rounds of golf, while my mom remains active in the family business, and taking in her own rounds of golf on the treadmill. They are equally independent from us as they are from each other as they continue to thrive as a two-car couple. If only it were that simple there would be no quandary. I'm all in. But I know that living to 100 would mean experiencing the unimaginable loss of my parents, possibly my spouse, and certainly many lifelong friends along the way. I know that living to 100 would mean accepting my own diminished aging process and the inevitability of my own fragility. But I also know that living to 100 would offer me the opportunity to write that story I've been wanting to tell, and to learn to play the keyboard that has been waiting for me in the basement. Living to 100 will afford me the time to master a new language and to finally reserve my year under the Tuscan sun. How could I not envision living to 100 given what my parents have given me. They continue to live, not just survive. Aging, to them, is an attitude not a condition. When they go to bed it's with the expectation that they have tomorrow. They still have things they look forward to, whether it's Wednesday's golf game, Thursday's canasta with the girls, dinner with friends on Saturday nights or family gatherings on Sundays. They anticipate being witness to their grandkids's graduations, to watching them play collegiate ball, to their marrying and having children of their own. How could I not want it if only as a gift to my children. If I could look in the mirror and see my parents, I'm all in.