There is a dense fog advisory this morning and, between the fog and the late rising sun of autumn, 7:00 still looks dark. I’ve not heard any birds yet, though in the past week they have been busy getting drunk on the orange berries in the tree across the street. A final avian party before the hardship of winter sets in.

We’ve been getting Atticus ready for a late fall trip to the coast. This will be our first venture out of town since the pandemic set in. Our preparations are a slow process, slower than they used to be certainly. We are feeling our age. The steps into the bus are a bit painful on the knees and require more attention to the balancing act of hauling ourselves up and in. We rest more often between loads of food, clothes, and other ‘needfuls’.

Lydia commented to me the other day that she was feeling old. I think it hurt her to have to admit the thought. She was saying the same thing I had been feeling lately but had not vocalized. We don’t talk about getting old directly, though we do mention our aches and stiff joints, our lack of energy, and our need to “just sit for a bit”. Her statement  was a departure in our conversational tapestry. Acknowledging that we are growing old to each other, I think, also acknowledges that at some point we are going to die.

I know that I paused briefly when she said it and we exchanged a look of understanding before our conversation moved on. I do not remember what I said next. I do remember what I felt. Neither of us are ready to “go” yet. We have many things that, despite our changing abilities, we want to do, places we want to go, experiences to have, Moreover, the utter sadness of one being without the other scares the hell out of us.

Here’s the thing though: Lydia broke the tension we both have been feeling deep down inside. We will talk more about it in the days to come, but in the mean time I think that we have a new freedom.

Our life together has frequently taken unexpected turns; we are experienced in adjusting and adapting. We will continue to adjust and adapt; it is our way. We make plans for future trips (New Orleans for Lydia’s birthday next month and the Mississippi River by steamboat next August) and we hedge our bets with cancellation insurance. I think we have dropped the cloak of invincibility of our youth (wow what a great play on words!) but still hold on to the naivete of travel and exploration. We have much that we still want to do. And so we go,together.

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