“As long as you’re dancing, you can
break the rules.
Sometimes breaking the rules is just
extending the rules.
Sometimes there are no rules.”
It’s something I’ve heard all my life age is just a number.
I didn’t actually believe it until recently. Like the last seven or so years. No coincidence that has been since I turned 50.
In ten days or so, one of the youngest, most active people I know turns 60. In the last couple years, he’s done cycling adventures that included riding from Vancouver to Whistler, to the highest peak in Taiwan, and, just for fun, 100 km on a Sunday. He has rebuilt docks pretty much solo.
He’s breaking the rules all the time – or perhaps extending them so that people stop thinking that age is anything other than a signifier of the passage of time.
I met that guy when he was a few weeks short of his 22nd birthday. It floors me to think that we have spent 38 years together. Not because we haven’t done a lot, but because he seems to be Benjamin Buttoning his way through life – he got older and now he’s getting younger.
I guess Mary Oliver is right cause hubby is showing that there are no rules.