My sister is coming to visit me today. She’ll be here for a long weekend. A stopover for awhile and then onto Charleston for a bit more of a vaca with a pal.
She’s older than me. Now sixteen years hardly makes a difference in our ages 74 to 58. She’s even still working at a second career after retiring from her first. So we are the most in tune with each other’s lives we have ever been.
This has rarely been the case in our history. Sixteen years is nearly a generation apart. I have friends who had children around that same age.
But having a sister who was a teenager when I was born has made me see life from a unique perspective. She is the very beginning of the Baby Boomer generation. I am the very tail end. We have another sister who sits in the middle.
When people talk to me about someone ten or fifteen years older than I am, I am unphased. I do not look at that someone as any different than I am. They are of my same generation, my cohort, because of my sister. They are my sister’s age and thus I view them as a contemporary.
My sister is a force. She travels. A LOT. In the last few years — I can’t tell you exactly when because I truly just can’t keep track of her — she has been to Australia and China. My sister climbed over the Sidney bridge and toured The Great Wall. As a senior citizen. Bam!
She’s going to Italy (again) this summer.
The last time she visited a couple years ago, I took her to my tattoo place and she got her first tattoo. At seventy-two. It was Tinkerbelle, because she loves Disney. And the word ‘Believe’.
I share my sister with you because she knows age is just a number. She lives in her now. She does not define her life by years but by experiences.
When you have a role model on aging well like that in your world, of course you are going to know anything is possible. There is a saying I’ve heard over and over. I just love it. My sister is the poster child for it.
We do not stop playing when we grow old, we grow old when we stop playing.