We often refer to a clock to mark the passing of time and aging.

At the first of each month I find that the aging process has become more apparent because the calendars that I hung in years gone by either require a something to climb on to change the month or asking my son to do it.

One of them it’s because I simply can’t each it without climbing on my desk, the other is because I can’t get the tack back in. One is height, the other is hand strength.

A few years ago my mom started asking us to change her calendars because the arthritis in her shoulders means she can’t reach up any more. It seems that I have once again become my mother.

On a similar thread, I recall years ago watching mom turn her whole body to look out the window at an intersection or backing up when she drove.  Now I too can’t turn my head to the left to look while I drive. Backing out of parking spaces and T intersections, even getting out of the driveway, have become an aerobic workout.

Calendars and driving. Those are my current indicators of time and aging.


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