By Emily Rosen

ERosen424@aol.com

www.emilyrosen424.com

When did it happen, this new awareness of fragility, vulnerability, mortality? When did I start being conscious of every step I take, begin refusing to take physical risks? When did I first step into the shower holding onto the rails, and exiting with “Be careful, step slowly, you don’t want to slip and fall,” echoing in my ears.

When did I give up the idea of someday (in some cases, again) bungee jumping, hang gliding, zip lining, jumping out of an airplane, serious skiing, white water rafting, hot air ballooning, mountain climbing?

When did I first mount my bike with the conscious thought of not falling? And when did I decide not to ride without a helmet? When did I become obsessed with daily exercises? And when I did begin to look forward to a just-staying-home day?

When did I first ban bread and cake from my refrigerator? When did I begin to check labels for high fructose corn syrup and sodium?

When did I begin to accept sickness and death without a feeling of devastating sadness and injustice?

When did I first stop caring about who won the Oscars, the World Series, The Super Bowl, the NBA title? When did I first recognize that I could live without a lot of the goodies I was living with, but that I couldn’t live without reading? When did I first acknowledge my addiction to my computer?

When did I first admit to myself that I have outgrown certain people and that there are some relationships that need not be continued? When did I stop caring what other people think? When did I learn how to balance the needs of loved ones with my own? When did I learn that compromise is not a dirty word and that there is no living without it? When did I learn that aging has nothing to do with numbers?

When did I learn to love a good debate with rational people whose political views are different ? When did I accept that my own views can be altered?

When did I first learn to accept that marriage has highs and lows? When did I learn that adult children are responsible for themselves and that letting go of 18 years of nurturing and hovering is not easy, but is – eventually – freeing?

And when did I accept that I may be a good writer – but that I am not great, nor is my writing destined for immortality?

When did I first know – REALLY know – that learning to have realistic expectations is a life-saver and that hanging on to merely reasonable ones end in disappointment, hurt, anger, rage and often irrational behaviors … and that learning to recognize the difference is better than all the PhDs in the world?

And when did I become so smart?