Imagine that you are the 70 year old person
I am young for my seventy years though people think I am old. They are misled by my white hair and the abundant wrinkles on my face. I have been like that for many years. I sometimes think I was born with an old face and a young heart.
People say the need for sleep lessens with the increase in years. I have always been an early riser. I am up and about before everyone else in the house and I hope I am not a source of nuisance to others. In fact, we are by ourselves. My husband and I; others, our children and grandchildren, are occasional visitors. It suits us for though we are often lonely, we value our independence. Imagine our going to live with any one of them! I would hate to be treated as an appendage. I value my independence.
We are up early; but I still like to read in bed. My husband is a religious man; he would rather say his prayers. I like to read with my spectacles and all and linger over the morning tea. Then I am up with all my aches and pains and the whole process of housekeeping starts. I can’t really attend to many chores; but I can give orders, instruct and check and this I do in plenty. After bathing and washing and prayers. we find ourselves sitting down to breakfast. It is still very early. If you look at the clock, it’s just seven-thirty; but we have already been up for some hours.
I have a quiet morning except for an occasional visitor from the neighborhood. I am fond of listening to music; at times I get nostalgic and try to arrange my treasures. Old people are as proud of their possessions as children of their collections. I also write my letters at this time of the day. I don’t like to rush. We have help in the kitchen, and, therefore, I don’t have to worry unduly about that.
My husband still attends to some business. He is an estate-agent and goes to his office for a few hours. He comes home for early lunch and a siesta after lunch. Then begins our busy time. Our children, grown up men and women, and our grandchildren and young teenagers know that if they have the time we would welcome them during this part of the day. Sometimes it’s a meeting ground for them; sometimes only one or two turn up. One is a writer and his time is his own. Another is a teacher. She is free in the evenings. Another is a doctor, with the afternoon free. Yet another is a contractor, so he can come at any time. We are never alone at tea time. There is noise and activity in the house and shouts of laughter and quarrels and loud arguments. Sometimes some child has come from another town. Then the others come to meet him or her. At times the young people disagree so violently that they shun each other for months and take care never to run into each other. We have then to mediate and advise them. Such periods are rather tense.
By six the exodus begins. They go away to attend to their tasks and I sit down to view the television. My husband meets a friend or two, some workmen, perhaps, and goes for an evening walk which is often combined with the daily marketing. We spend a little time in the garden and then have dinner. It is then time to sleep. Thus loneliness and gaiety alternate with each other in our lives, but we are together and we are happy. We have the best of both the worlds.
