One Day

 One day, I was young.

I was in grad school. I was running every day. I had trouble keeping weight on, so I would often treat myself to a chocolate milk shake at a little place across the street from the library where I worked while attending school.

One day, my whole life lay ahead of me. My parents seemed old when they were in their late 40s. I was blissfully ignorant of politics.

I was married, happily, or so I believed. And then one day, I wasn’t.

Then I grew up.

One day I looked at a photograph of myself and was shocked at how I looked. My arms looked fat (they weren't), although I was still thin. 

One day I looked in the mirror and was amazed at the size of my backside. 

One day I noticed gray hairs at my temples. Eventually, my entire head was covered with gray hair. I decided not to color my hair, deciding instead to embrace the gray. Hair stylists and others complemented the gray, noting that it set off my blue eyes.

One day I noticed that my weight had been creeping up, despite daily walking or running.  Although unhappy about this development, I accepted it as part of the aging process. And I determined not to let my weight continue to rise.

One day, I realized that I needed bifocals. I got progressive lenses so I didn't feel old by wearing eyeglasses with an obvious line in the lenses.

One day, I realized that I simply no longer had the energy to run, something I had enjoyed daily for more than 30 years. I had run the San Francisco marathon, and I had placed in my age group in several 5k and 10k races. I tried to get back into running later, but again, I just didn't have the energy. So for the past 10 to 12 years, I have walked every day.

One day I was diagnosed with osteoporosis, and another day I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. And then I needed four surgeries to remove kidney stones.

One day I needed cataract surgery to eliminate the double vision I was experiencing. 

One day I tripped while in Kenya and broke my wrist. Surgery in another country wasn't part of what I had planned during my trip, but the surgeon did an excellent job of repairing the fracture.

One day my finger joints started to hurt -- osteoarthritis. I no longer have the dexterity or strength I once had in my fingers.

So my life has seen a lot of physical changes, none for the better. But several trips to eye eye specialist have made me realize how fortunate I really am. Unlike others I saw in the waiting room, I don't need a wheelchair, a walker or a cane. I don't require supplemental oxygen in a bottle I carry with me. 

I am still active. I exercise every day. I travel the world. My mind is still sharp. And I still live independently.

The bottom line is this: One day I was young and full of life. And then one day, I realized that I am old. I can't do the things I used to do with the same ease.

One day I might have to move into an assisted living facility. I hope not, but that decision likely will be out of my control.

What I can do is make the most of the time and abilities I have left. I advise you to do the same.

One day will be here before you know it.