Twenty-three years ago, when I was 50, I felt great about life and living on Little Cranberry Island. I was in pretty good physical shape and enjoyed going to social events. At one of them, a friend in her 70s told me, with a somewhat sour expression on her face, “Oh, don’t get old.” I might have been snappish with my response—something like, “Well, I actually hope to get very old!” I walked away with a middle-aged entitlement, uninterested in what aging might feel like. Wasn’t getting old a privilege that not everyone got to experience?
Fast forward to this summer and many conversations with my peers are about aging. We’re living it. We share our medical anxieties with mildly shocked expressions. “How the hell did we get here?” At the beach, I am one of several gray-haired matrons discussing the ups and downs of grown children and grandchildren staying in the same house with us. We all love it, and we all find it exhausting. We just don’t have the stamina we used to, yet some of us expect ourselves to “do it all” like we did in our 40s and 50s.
The thing about living on an unbridged island is that you need to be in shape for it. Climbing on and off the ferry with several bags in each hand requires strength and balance. Ascending and descending the ramps or stairs at low tide is easier with strong knees. But somehow, by this spring, I had become sedentary. My knees hurt so I didn’t walk much. I gained weight which made my knees hurt more. I was getting old fast and feeling depressed about it. I knew what to do but it would take work.
I started to walk first thing in the morning, before I had time to think about it. I went for 15 minutes at first and slowly built up to longer walks. I hopped on my bike to do errands in lieu of taking my golf cart. I climbed extra flights of stairs every day. My weight slowly dropped and my knees became less painful. Four months later I feel so much better. I expected the physical improvement from my efforts, but was surprised and delighted by how these sunrise walks feed my soul as the insanity of the larger world tries to drag me down.
Every morning I’ve seen something special on my walks. I’ve watched a young merlin family practice their flying lessons in the treetops. I’ve seen eight deer come up the beach to head to the woods. I wonder, were they coming from eating a seaside breakfast? I’ve heard seals “singing” from the ledges in The Gut. I noticed in August when the crickets replaced the early morning birdsong of June and July. I’ve seen the lights of lobster boats winking on the southern horizon before sunrise. I’ve startled a great blue heron and watched him fly by in full moonlight. I’ve seen 20 Canada Geese just waking up on Gilley Beach.
I’ve learned some lessons about aging on an island this summer. I know it takes daily effort to stay in shape and feel good in my creaky body. I know to accept the steadying hand of the crew when I get on or off the mailboat because my balance isn’t what it used to be. Best of all I know I can soothe my soul at any time by just setting off on a walk. What a privilege to get older in a place where there is beauty in any direction I choose to take.
Barbara Fernald lives on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be contacted at Fernald244@gmail.com.
