I’ve been watching vintage television shows the last couple of weeks. Tons of them, back to back. They feel like old friends come to visit. I’ve seen every one of them, but thanks to my memory problems, I cannot remember how they end. I can’t remember who murdered the victim, or why. And so, Becky and I enjoy each one, then scurry around, do a little housework or gardening, then back to another episode.
It is interesting how young all these characters seem this time around. I remember them as being old, way past middle age. I wonder how I could possibly have seen them this way. Actors that I remember as being gruff and scary now seem to be barely past college age. One look in the mirror tells me why.
And so tonight I have turned off my TV to finish up some work around the house. Folding clothes, dishes, wiping up paw prints off the kitchen floor. And I think about the spring-time. I am in the Autumn of my life, fearing the snows of winter. How does spring relate to me now?
Then I realize. It is the season of Peeps! How can one be overly sensitive about their age when Peeps are around? I’ve just finished my blue chicks, now for the pink rabbits…