will you still need me, will you still feed me?

My husband recently applied for social security benefits – albeit a couple of years late. He is still working and has medical insurance so he didn’t think it was necessary but apparently the government, much like the draft in his days, needs you to sign up.

It was a very emotional moment for him as he looked back at his work history. Every year his salary was printed out and for each of those years he had a memory:

*When he first started working for his dad.

*When we got married and each year we had a child,

*When he bought out his older brothers and ran the company as a sole owner.

The lady at the social security office, bless her soul, was amazingly patient. I imagine each person who walks into her office relives those same memories.


I’m not quite old enough to sign up for social security. I will be spending my 64th birthday in London. Seven of my eight siblings will be there to help me celebrate as well as my best friend from childhood who probably knows me just as well as my brothers and sisters.

I never considered myself “old” but I began noticing things this year – my knees don’t work as well as they used to. I need to hold on to something when I get up, and my hair and skin is much drier (I mean, what is crepe skin anyway? well, now I know!).

My traveling companion, my friend from childhood who is just 6 months younger than me, recently had back surgery. It’s taking her longer than she thought to recover. We are going to be quite the sight as we head off to Ireland (her homeland), then Wales (my homeland), and finally London for my birthday celebration.

I’ve never worried about traveling (even though I don’t like to fly) but this time the idea of lugging suitcases and checking in and out of hotels sounds… well … like a lot of work!

But we are determined. We are not ready to be “old” and we’ve got a few more years before we apply for Medicare.

I’m not ready to look back on my life.

I’m still looking forward.


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