Time is elastic and my waistband proves it. I start the day with good intentions and end with bad dimensions. Yeah, baby, getting old is not a walk in the park. It’s more like a sit on the couch with a bag of healthy simulated veggies crisps. Last night I sat on my glasses and will have to get them straightened out today.

My birthday is Thursday and I am gonna sneak out and set my odometer back a few decades. No one will know but me.

My muse is Leonard Cohen, as most of you know. He writes a lot about growing old. By the way, his sensuality never waned. The older he grew, the sexier he got. He growled his lyrics and whispered in our ears about our earthly predicament. I am sure he sat on his glasses now and then.

I look to him for both wisdom and humor. The darker the night, the brighter the insights about life become.

My nights have been so dark I would swear somebody turned off the stars and froze the tears in all the rivers of the world. I sat alone. Now I know better. Grace is urging me to get back on the dance floor and show people how it is done, this thawing out and making contact with the sunlight again. It is never too late to communicate love. Not necessarily to any one person but to everything and everyone.

I do not mean socializing; I do not mean theorizing. I mean letting this little light of mine shine.

Vicki Woodyard