July 1, 2021 –
Today, while sitting in my doctor’s patient waiting room, I studied the other patients. A few were tall and thin, some short and overweight—while others were a combination of the sizes mentioned. Everyone was there to see the doctor.
Instead of only seeing the people, I began listening to the information they provided to the nurse receptionist. One piece of information grabbed my attention—their birth date. Two men, who looked to be in their early nineties, gave their respective birthdays as 1943 and 1946. Though I am a senior citizen living in a senior living apartment, I feel 75 years old. My birth year is 1940, which makes me younger than both of the aforementioned men.
As I left the doctor’s office, I had an extra spring in my step and a renewed thankfulness for my good health.