65 Is Not Just A Number

It’s Monday evening;  it is quiet around the house, which is good, seeing as I threw my own birthday party Saturday.

I have a hard time saying I’m 65…there are so many memories strung out behind me, three-quarters worth I can’t remember. I am in the second half of my  life, making memories  every day, forgetting memories every day.

You can say 65 is just a number, but so is 21. 49. 1,204. In theory, that is correct. But that’s over 520 million breaths. 65 birthday parties. Over 268,000 hugs. 500,000 bites of chocolate. Its that and so much more.

I threw myself a party because I wanted to…dare I say I was afraid that no one would remember this momentous occasion? That my day of turning old enough to retire would be brushed over like an ant on the table?

It’s hard to admit your own insecurities…especially when they sound stupid in your ears.

I wanted to celebrate making 65 years of life. Good and bad. Up and Down. Two kids, 2-1/2 grandkids. Friends. Traveling. Camping. Working. So much has been packed into these 65 years — how I wish I could remember them all. My kids as babies. My kids as teens. My mindset at 30. 40. 50. Different from where I am today, no doubt different from where I’m going.

I’ve outlived my mother by 11 years, and am aiming at my father’s ripe old age of 86, and adding 10 to that. I don’t want the memories to end. The friendships to end. The dreams to end. I’ve got so much to do that there’s no time to feel bad about what has been.

So throw your own party. Celebrate your life. Every day of it.  Don’t wait for someone to come along and validate all the years you’ve given to mother earth. Do it yourself.

Even if you can’t remember half of it.

22 thoughts on “65 Is Not Just A Number

  1. Good for you! You are only as old as you think, even though you body might argue otherwise. One day at a time and enjoy those 2 1/2 grandchildren…


  2. Oh girl I wish it was so! I am going to retire at 66…I’m going to spend this year getting my act together. I have so much writing and visiting and stuff I want to do…and after work till bedtime isn’t long enough. Thank you!!


  3. I love your rambling! It opens gates of memories. Sometimes I wish those around me asked me more about my “early” years. I do throw out that the first concert I ever went to was the Beatles…that brings looks of awe. And I still use the blow dryer and do a little rat ta tat to my hair too! Thanks for bring a smile to my lips. And I’m going over to follow you now!


  4. I know how you feel. I’m so afraid Im going to miss all the things I dreamed of seeing and doing, I used to say “retirement? Hell no…I’m not THAT old!” to “Bring it on! I need my life back!”


  5. Happy Birthday! 268 000 hugs. 500 000 chocolate bites. Mmmm, that sounds wonderful. I liked your spin on this, and I understand it must be difficult celebrating birthdays in a rather ageist society. But at the end of the day you determine the worth of your life, in whatever number you want. Hugs and chocolate for the win! May you live another 65 wonderful years. Cheers!


  6. Dates are just numerals on a page..
    It’s what you do on the dashes between them that matters!
    Wishing you a wonderful year of celebrations, for celebrate you must…
    For you’ll never again be as young as you are today!
    Happy Many Birthdays, Claudia!


  7. Happy 65th birthday Claudia, loved your whole article, and I kept nodding my head in agreement all the way through, smiling ☺ to myself along the way. I’m 66 1/2 now, still working a bit, part-time, and there is so much more for to do, more writing, maybe a book of my poems, travel, and if I’m lucky a new companion to share the rest of journey with. I think I’ve plenty of years left, mum got to 89 and my dad was a gorgeous 91. Thank you ❤️ for sharing your story, and may you continue to have many more birthdays and parties !! 😉 xx


  8. In a way, if nobody notices that I turned 66 this year, I remind them – haha. No, really, I’m proud to be my age. I’m happy I’m still alive, still working, still puttering around the house. I’m not as spry as either of my parents, but I’m still happy. Being a genealogist, I follow obituaries and see people my age dying every day.
    As you’ve said, we’ve lived through a lot – and we’re still living like always, one day at a time. You probably remember more than you realize. I find I remember things as I am telling someone else a story about my past and they ask me a question – today I was talking with someone about having oily skin as a teenager -oily hair too – back when girls didn’t just wear “wash and dry” hair styles – remember how we used to “rat” our hair to get it to puff out? I usually only washed my hair once a week – on Saturday. Later – toward the end of the 60’s we wore our hair straighter and they invented blow dryers.
    Anyways – stuff like that comes out when someone asks me. That’s the advantage to being around people my own age.
    Anyway – I’m rambling. Music brings a lot back.


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