The art of growing old.

Jubilee and I were out for our 4 a.m. walk when an unexpectedly large shape passed in my peripheral vision. Jubilee began to bark, and I looked up to see a Contra Costa County fire truck pass slowly (and silently) by. I raised my hand in greeting, and the driver waved back. It never occurred to me to wonder why a fire truck was in my isolated community so early in the day.

We rounded the block and came upon a rather disorienting sight...an ambulance at the curb, lights shut off, and a stretcher shrouded with a black tarp. It took a moment for me to process what was happening, but when I did my heart immediately sank. My neighborhood is full of wonderful, good-hearted elderly residents, people who bought these homes when the houses were brand new in the 1970's. Their children are all now adults with their own families, and Brian and I are by far the youngest "homeowners" in the entire neighborhood. Immediately, I began to worry that I might know who the body under the tarp was.

That's the fundamental truth about growing up - people will begin to pass. I'm at an age now where I accept this, but growing up that was always a hard truth to swallow. My dad died when I was 12, so I lived in constant fear that someone else close to me would follow suit. Over a decade later, that fear has evaporated into a grim sort of acceptance and given way to a new worry: what will I do, and who will I be when I get old?

Pop culture is obsessed with youth - we judge beauty and self-worth in an incredibly backward fashion. Instead of valuing women based on when they've reached their peak of both physical and sexual growth (at age 30), we count backward...we obsess over the Lolitas of our culture. The Lindsay Lohans and Paris Hiltons of our celebrity cult are looked up to because of their ability to retain a girl-like, almost infantile demeanor. Men count down the days until teenagers like Hayden Panettiere and Ashley Tisdale hit 18, so they can openly and legally obsess about their sexual qualities. It's sick, but that's how the game works.

Conversely, men supposedly "get better with age." Older gentlemen get credit for being "bachelors" and "playboys" well into their 50's, as if every male in the country gets to bask from the benefits reaped by George Clooney and Brad Pitt. It is a socially constructed preference, but it exists nonetheless.

So what do I, a woman already past my supposed "youth," do with the rest of my life? Easy - I live. I made the conscious decision to choose a man who loves me for the same reasons I love him: his attractive qualities are long-term and deeply rooted, not temporary and shallow. He is witty, adventurous, intelligent and kind. Instead of obsessing over money and appearances, we love to look at each other say, "I cannot wait to grow old with you." That isn't a guarantee, it's simply a promise. What's so fundamentally important about fostering a long-term relationship is realizing that love is NOT unconditional and that people DO change. We both have our heads clear enough to know the difference.

Outside my love life, I have a huge range of options for my career. I could invest in the stability that online journalism/web producing offers, or I could branch out into photography and graphic design. I could go back for a Master's degree, or I could try an entirely new career. That's the beauty of having, at bare minimum, my bachelor's degree. Getting that stupid piece of paper lifted a huge weight off my shoulders, knowing that I had at least met the first tier of entering the increasingly competitive job market.

A very driven and successful colleague of mine once told me that his biggest career goal was to retire. I laughed at first, but he pointed out that if he could retire by age 35, he would have a life well-lived. I envied his goal, but I know myself well enough that I'm sure I'll be working and paying into my 401k well into my 40's....which is fine. I love writing, I love creativity, and if those two things are always present then I will always be happy.

Even though I'm still in my early 20's, seeing that ambulance today reminded me to both value the present and begin investing in my future. As excited as I am to have a family one day and enjoy being middle-aged, it's important to remember that my long-term future is just as important as the next decade will be.

"They say that time takes its toll on a body
Makes a young girl's brown hair turn gray
But honey I don't care
I ain't in love with your hair
And if it all fell out, I'd love you anyway"
-- Randy Travis