Life is not always about good and evil, right or wrong or just conservative or progressive ideologies. There's always the soft, sweet and maybe quietly fearful reality of a first date and the hard-core kick'em to the curb belly wail of your team's anthem at tournament time. Anyone who remotely thinks that life is just one sweet pursuit of happiness without adversity may be misguided by the sugar-coated rhetoric of RomComs and Hallmark movies. Every aspect of our existence teeters on the edge of easy or hard so delicately that the middle ground seems inexplicably blurred.
And then there's age.
It's a simple, monosyllabic three letter word born of Middle English and Anglo-French origin. Webster calls it the length of time during which a being or thing has existed, a
period of human life. Age is the consummate example of life in the middle ground blur: highs/lows, ups/downs, happy/sad, good/bad. It's a fragile journey designed to rattle every perception of life's expectations.
Until you add a "d" at the end. Aged. There is no middle ground. Welcome to a deep-dive into the bowels of purgatory.
I have found that the "Golden Years" are actually the "Rusted Iron" years devoid of any sign of precious metal. Unless, of course, you revel in the symphony of creaking joints, the feel of thinning hair through your fingers or the bulge of bunions on your feet.
Alas, however, if there is any salvation in the Golden Years it is found in the unadulterated pursuit of youth. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.