Mittens Mattered
Are we being warped by a social feed full of RIPs for pets and pop stars?
One of the indignities of being 60-plus is the number of people in your life that pass away. What starts as a trickle quickens to a stream — in my case, much like the number of times I walk into a room and forget why the heck I went there.
“The laundry is dry,” I tell Kim, setting a basket of warm towels before her like Violante Visconti’s dowry.
“Oh, gee, thanks,” she says. “Now hand me the screwdriver you went downstairs to fetch and let’s hang this picture.”
“Dang. I’ll be right back.”
In any such lapse, I recall soon enough that I was, say, getting a postage stamp from the top drawer before a seductive pile of 2032 batteries reminded me my car fob had gone dead, prompting a change of mission. Eventually, I return for the stamp — otherwise I’d worry. I don’t. It’s normal.
Besides, the extra steps get me closer to 10,000 which, according to the preloaded app on my iPhone, is good for me — so long as my knee isn’t acting up. Sheesh. I never expected to be here. In my head, but nowhere else, I can crush the latest dance on TikTok. Sixty-plus is an undeniable new challenge; smiling is the best antidote.
Smiling isn’t so easy, though, when you or someone near you loses a loved one, even if…
