When you get to be our age. “You look back and you never know,”says a gray-haired man across the way at Isles Bun and Coffee saying. Sounds like an older guy on his best behavior, talking on a first-time online dating meet-up. 

She’s happy he’s talking. But he needs to shut up, let her speak too. Perhaps it’s all he’ll ever say.  

   At our age, I’m so glad I no longer need to do that. I wouldn’t. I came to Minneapolis to participate more in my grandkids’ life during this this last part of my life. Figured I would hold the fort on my couch during blizzards, reading and writing and doing my own thing.

   But here I am. Writing with my new man. A good one: a writer;  photographer; retired teacher; a traveler like me; a person who loves learning and tai chi and music and dancing and meditation.

The world is a messy, crazy place. I’m happy today. I’m lucky. Waiting for my dear son to return from one of the most exotic, dangerous parts of the world. My dear little granddaughter feels better, is back to her lively, talking self. I’m still coughing and sneezing but the sun is shining.

I ate some yummy quiche for breakfast. I have no idea what comes next. As my son says, I’m “forever curious.

At my age, one question is about the passage of time: My friend Carol sent a photo of herself sitting among the black rocks on the beaches of Normandy, France. Her photos bring to mind my beach photos, sitting among the strange orange rocks of Santa Barbara or the pink granite rocks of Mt. Desert Island.

At my age, does my mind take in these photos as one memory, being among these various rocks? I’m not sure.

I’m still at Isles Bun and Coffee when I hear a woman behind me say, “Everybody’s growing older and moving where they should be.” Was this comment meant for me? I wonder, knowing full well it would be pretty nutty if it was. Serendipity grabs my attention like a song.

There’s a lot on my mind. It’s been an intense time. Time is everything.

At my age, it will be the first time our entire small Wilensky family will gather together to mourn and celebrate one of our own: Sandra Borg Wilensky.

We will all arrive on Friday in Sudbury, Massachusetts, at my brother’s home for a memorial service the following day. Flying in from Istanbul, Minneapolis, Raleigh, San Francisco. Young grandchildren and cousins meeting for the first time, plus my brother meeting his great nephew and niece for the first time.

My two grown nieces, his two daughters, are doing all the work. Including taking care of their dad. They are both doing their mom proud. With both health challenges and lots of love, we will be there together to honor my late sister-in-law.

At my age, time is a conundrum. Time is at a premium. I’m lucky to have this time.