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The pleasures of aging

I am just starting to be a part of the crowd who has a litany of complaints against aging. 
I am not inclined to join them. 

I acknowledge the stiffness, the injuries, the sleeplessness, and the digestive indignities.  The embarrassment and even humiliation that often comes with being publicly and inadvertantly marginalized simply because you no longer vibrate with youthfulness may be surpassed by the embarrassment of realizing how small a world you've invested in, how forgettable your contributions are, and how many more times you must repeat these same forgettable gestures before it's over.  I also acknowledge that aging can legitimately be understood as just: real slow dying.
The thing is there's an oak tree in my neighborhood and most winter mornings, its bare branches emerge from the dark dark sky slowly as I walk the dog.  I watch as the clarity of daylight announces itself. 
This is a pleasure that the young cannot see. 
Many of them are sleeping.  …

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