AGING: From the eyes of someone still becoming

By C², Connie Colleen Wyatt, Occupational Therapist, PNW Home for Life PLLC

I’m not old.

Not even close, really.

I still sprint up stairs and forget why I came into a room.

But not because of age—just distraction.

I still think I have time.

Time to fix it. Time to start over. Time to not worry.

I don’t know what it feels like to wake up with joints that argue back,

or to sit at a table and realize you’re the last of your kind.

I haven’t yet had to ask for help when I used to give it,

or squint at the world, not just through eyes,

but through a veil of “used to.”

But I watch.

And I see you.

You, who walk with slower steps but deeper wisdom.

You, who’ve buried dreams and people

and still wake up with grace.

You’ve earned every line etched on your skin,

and I dare not call them “wrinkles.”

They’re maps.

Proof you stayed.

Proof you lived.

I hear people say aging is graceful,

but grace isn’t always gentle.

Sometimes it’s brutal.

Like when the body forgets how it used to move,

or when the world stops seeing you.

When solitude replaces invitations

and everything takes more effort—

getting dressed, getting up, letting go.

That’s not graceful. That’s gladiator-level grit.

I don’t pretend to understand it.

Not yet.

But I respect the hell out of it.

Because aging isn’t just getting older.

It’s carrying more—losses, loves, the long stretch of days that teach hard things.

It’s surviving your past selves

and learning to make peace with them.

So if I look at you and say, “you’re aging beautifully,”

know I don’t mean your skin or your smile—

though both are radiant.

I mean your fight.

Your staying power.

Your ability to keep becoming even when the world thinks you’re done.

One day, if I’m lucky, I’ll get there.

And I hope I wear it half as well as you do.

By C²

pnwhomeforlife@gmail.com

360-770-1752