That’s a formal title for a rather anti-climatic event. I turned 65 last week and enjoyed some lovely celebrations. Most of my thoughts on aging have centered on how to get my Presto card updated to Senior so I can get my discount. Not very introspective, I admit.
I have the usual tangle of feelings about aging. I rarely actively feel it, while at the same time my knees go wonky and my hip hurts most of the time. I don’t think of myself as older, let alone ‘old’, but my mirror shows me graying hair and the impact of gravity on my face. I regret that I wasted the years in which I was somewhat attractive feeling ugly. I regret all the things I was afraid to do when I was younger, the things I skipped because it was easier not to risk failure. I have fears for the future that I try not to think about: my health, my husband’s, what will happen as we age, what I might have to face alone, what I might have to face sooner than I think, that might end all ‘facing’ for good. My mother died at 70, my father is still going strong at almost 91 – who knows whose genes are stronger? Who knows what toll my own choices might have taken? Who knows what virus or random cell mutation is out there with my name on it?
On the positive side, I care much less about what the world thinks of me than I used to, and that has made me braver. I took up flamenco at 57 and have done three public performances, which was as much a surprise to me as anyone. I’ll never be really good at it, but I’m proud of myself for trying. I’m still writing, for no other reason that I can’t seem to stop. I have no illusions about publication or fame or critical success. I just write, even when I don’t enjoy it, because it seems that’s still what I do. I like learning – about history and science and politics and the world – even if I forget the details of half the things I read or hear. By any estimation, I’m materially and financially comfortable. I have family and friends and the best husband in the world. I’m not really afraid of dying. I never have been. I’m afraid of pain and a long decline fraught with physical humiliation and helplessness, but the thought of ceasing to exist has never bothered me.
So I suppose it’s ok that it’s anti-climatic. I’ll just keep going, trying to write every day, trying to get my feet to move fast enough for the choreography, trying to walk, trying to move, trying to have fun, trying to be a slightly better person, trying to find wonder in the world. I’ll probably screw a lot of it up, but that’s life.

P.S. In the obligatory sales promotion, here’s what’s on sale right now. A TERRIBLE BEAUTY in Canada, until December 20th. COLD HILLSIDE in the US until December 20th. THE NIGHT INSIDE in the US on December 18th.
2 responses
1 Misha · Dec 24, 2024 at 10:03 am
So glad to discover your blog! I read your first novels when published and had wondered where you went. I saw your books on the bookshelf and Googled: voilĂ ! I am looking forward to going through your blog posts and getting your newer novels. All the best for 2025!
2 Nancy · Dec 29, 2024 at 1:16 pm
Thanks so much for remembering me! I’m working slowly (as usual) on finishing my next novel. I don’t know what will happen with it, but I’m very proud of it.
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