A week or two ago, I was sitting in my drawbridge tower at 7 am on a typical wet, cold, dark, Pacific Northwest Winter’s morning. It felt like I had the whole of Seattle to myself. Everyone with sense is still asleep at that hour on a Saturday morning. I, on the other hand, was sleep deprived, and it was my birthday. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Age is just a number. Yeah, yeah. But I had just turned 60. How did that happen? Last I looked, I was 19. I don’t feel 60. (Well, my lower back does, but the rest of me doesn’t.) Actually, I’m not particularly obsessed with my age. I don’t particularly care about grey hair or wrinkles or looking frumpy, and I’ve pretty much always felt out of the loop. I’m more concerned about how little time I have left. I will never do everything I hope to do. It would be impossible. If I think of that too much, I begin to mourn the things that are never going to happen, so I try not to think about it too much. But on that day, at that moment, a poem poured out of me as I sat alone in the dark and cold while the city slept on.
Now, I’m no Amanda Gorman. Far from it. I’m sure I’m breaking a lot of poetic rules. This poem is pretty elementary, and to say it’s maudlin is putting it mildly. But I have decided to lean into my vulnerability and share it with you anyway, Dear Reader. So here goes.
Staring 60 in the Eye
60 rides around the sun,
not 60 more before I’m done.
No time to waste, so much to do,
Must make a mark before I’m through.
I’d like to leave a legacy,
So some will still remember me.
Do those I love know that I care?
Do those who need me find me there?
Have I given earth its due,
and fought against self-centered views?
Ignore my cabbages and kings.
Have I given people wings?
I’ve tried to be a force for good
Although I’m oft misunderstood.
I’d like to think I’ve done my best.
It matters much who grades the test.
So much to see, so much to do.
There’s so much need; my skills are few.
The pendulum keeps swinging on,
And will do so long after I'm gone.
So leave things better while you’re here,
For younger ones, for future years.
And ignore current attitudes.
Give elder ones some gratitude.
They've seen so much you'll never know,
All that goes with them when they go.
You got here by their inventions,
So stop discounting their intentions.
As one day it will be your turn
To see life's brevity and yearn.
Since it rushes by so fast.
Life quickly ends; It never lasts.
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