Invisible Lines
Mon., June 19, 11:20 AM
My friend Vee and I were discussing birthdays recently, as ours are very close. So close, in fact, that for two weeks every year, we’re the same age.
Vee said that, as she grows older, she realizes that we are crossing invisible lines. We may not know it at the time, but we look back and realize that we procrastinated too long, and now it’s too late. I thought it was an interesting way to describe it, and it seems to me that sometimes we realize that we crossed the line long ago. We just weren’t paying attention.
It isn’t always with regrets or that we did something wrong. Just recently I wrote about how I’ve never been able to serve on a jury. Now, if I’m called again, I would have to decline because I can’t see well enough to drive back and forth to the court. It’s nothing I did or didn’t do. It’s just the way things worked out.
Some forty years ago, I was just beginning to learn to travel on my own. I loved seeing new places and new things. I started saving toward a trip to Europe, places I’ve always wanted to see. But I never went, because I gave the money to my parents to pay for my wedding.
Over the years, Husband and I saved our money and bought a house, raised our children, paid for their education. We seldom went anywhere longer than a day trip, but I did think that one day we could go places together. However, long before he was disabled, I found that he wasn’t the best traveling companion. He didn’t want to go and look at things, and he didn’t appreciate them even if I dragged him to the spot. “Look at that! Isn’t that worth seeing?” “What?” Lost cause. Oh, yeah, sometimes he got lost too; it was like traveling with a small child.
Happily, M.D. and I managed a week in London about fifteen years ago. Neither one of us is healthy enough now to explore the city as we did then.
Anyhow, travel for the most part is out. That’s just one thing. Others exist, enough that I believe I will be writing about invisible lines every now and then.
