Sixty

I turned sixty this week.  It feels more like a milestone than fifty or forty.  Officially old, even though I feel like I can do most of the things that I could at fifty or forty.  Maybe not quite as fast and without knowing what day it is.  

This has been a family week without much time for outdoor recreation besides the daily death marches through town at sunrise.  Just kidding.  Those walks are often the highlight of my day.

Julia's dad is back in the hospital after another stroke.  Things are not looking good. The stroke affected that part  of his brain that controls swallowing.  He isn't eating or drinking on his own.  Because of Covid, no one is allowed to visit--not even his wife.

I spent part of my birthday moving some of Justin's medical equipment into his dorm room.  We keep  older worn-out equipment at home to limp along for occasional weekends and spring break.  The Hoyer lift and shower/toilet chair are too big to fit in the car, so the equipment was transported in the back of the Frontier.

After the work was done, we returned home for an excellent outdoor-grilled rib eye, tin-foiled mushrooms and onions, sauteed spinach, a lovely glass of Washington-state Cabernet, and peanut butter and chocolate frosted brownies.  After a relaxing evening, I slept well.

 

"I've been aware of the time going by
They say, in the end, it's the wink of an eye
When the morning light comes streaming in
You'll get up and do it again, Amen."    

(Jackson Browne, The Pretender)

Showing Kindness to my younger brother

 

Trading one backpack for another.