I got hot-pink glasses with rhinestones on the sides. They would be adorable but for the fact that they are reading glasses. Something I thought I would never need. What, me, reading glasses?! Are you kidding? No way!

It’s happened. Either the world went crazy and starting printing everything in illegible letters, or my eyes aged.

I'm afraid it’s the latter.

I’ve got to come out of denial. Aging is happening even as I type these wordsSo, I got hot-pink glasses with rhinestones on the sides. It’s my way of saying, “I may be getting older, but I’m still cool.” Which, of course, is so not cool, because today’s generation would never use an old-fashioned phrase like that. So there’s no way around this thing. I’ve got to come out of denial. Aging is happening even as I type these words. I am ever so slowly, and sometimes more quickly, evolving into the “older” generation. These words, in print, sicken me. I am sixteen on the inside of my brain, but the rest of my body is screaming otherwise!

So I got hot-pink glasses with rhinestones on the sides. If I’m going to be doing this “aging” thing, I might as well do it with some degree of panache.

Which is easier said than done.

After all, how am I supposed to react to the lines forming on my face? It would be nice if it was an Etch-A-Sketch board. Then all I’d need to do is shake the board and I’d erase the lines. My face, though, is not a game board, and if I were to shake it a lot, I’d need additional visits to the chiropractor.

And what am I supposed to do about the fact that every so often a body part appears as though introducing itself for the first time? Like the spot that’s keeping me up right now, at 3:00 AM, writing this thing. Somewhere below my ribs, in the center, a sound is being heard. It’s a gurgle. Gurgles are cute if you’re a little baby with yummy fat cheeks. This is not cute.

And what am I to do about the fact that I now need arches in my shoes? That doesn’t sound so bad, right? Wrong. It’s bad. Very bad. It means that now I have to go to old-lady shoe stores where they sell the support shoes with arches. Needless to say, I look for the latest style, but that doesn’t diminish the blow.

“I will not go gentle into that good night,” but what else is there to do? I have to have a game plan.

So I got hot-pink glasses with rhinestones on the sides.

Since my vision changed, I’ve got to change as well. I have to start seeing things with a new set of eyes. If I focus on the incessant signs of my mortality, then it’s downhill from here. If I focus on my immortality, then the opposite is true.

My soul doesn’t grow bunions, and it doesn’t grow gray hairsMy soul doesn’t grow bunions, and it doesn’t grow gray hairs. But it does grow, and its potential is infinite. In my mind’s eye, I see my Creator’s hand reaching downwards and mine reaching upwards. It’s all about that connection. It’s all about getting to the place where my hand is completely clasped into His. That elevating pull is now my raison d’etre.

When I choose to stop my whirlwind in order to pray, my arm has nudged up a few notches. Each time I have a realization that G‑d is running the show and not I, that’s another nudge upwards. When I command my ego to step down, and allow for my soul’s voice to step up, I’ve moved yet again. The Torah is replete with opportunities to move beyond the time-bound self and merge into the timeless.

So I got myself hot pink glasses with rhinestones on the sides.

It’s my way of acknowledging and accepting the full reality of who I am. A body that wants and needs to be adorned with style, but since it’s all so transitory, I can’t take it too seriously—hence the hot-pink humor. As for the rhinestones? They’re my tacky sparkling stars, a touch of heaven. A reminder to keep reaching upwards to the Hand that is forever reaching out to me.