"...when I'm 64."

"When i get older losing my hair,
Many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine.
If i'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When i'm sixty-four."

So I sit in a diner and I'm in people-watching mode.  In comes a man stooped over with age and health.  He smiles, walks over to the counter and gives his order.  Across the room is a grey-haired lady talking knowingly with two younger ladies.  She knows them, or at least knows the right words to say to be able to easily converse with them on more than a "how can I help you" basis.  Another man goes to read his paper.  

What are their stories?  What kind of lives have they lived?  What will my story be when I'm 64... 84...

The fast pace is gone.  They go about their day in the rhythm that they've found connects them best with this moment in their lives.  The tempo may have slowed, but there is still life in the eyes.  Especially the lady who works at the diner.  She smiles a genuine smile and is content.  Who knows if she reached all of the goals that she had for her life as a teen.  Who knows if she has more that she wants to do.

No matter.  I am thankful for her smile and the attitude with which she goes about her day.  I've sat here for over an hour and I'm aware that there was pain in the one man's step.  The other a sense of something missing.

So as I grow older...wrinkled with age...will I find my way
will I still be able to hum a melody...
or will I grumble day after day.
(hummed to the tune of the Beatles' song)

Guess that's a choice only I can make.