Sometimes it seems like when you hone in on an idea or meditate on a life truth that it begins hitting you every which way you turn. Or maybe it's been there all along and you are finally paying attention.
For me, lately, I've been thinking a lot about aging.
I'm not really sure what sparked such thoughts initially but now I seem inescapably drawn to stories, to speakers, to books, to movies, to people and the later years of life.
Of course, aging itself is inescapable--a thought that none of us really want to entertain, except, perhaps, when silently swooning a bit as a wrinkly old man ambles down the sidewalk, step by slow step, hand intertwined with his stooped-over wife.
But the reality of aging really isn't quite as picturesque and is something we all kind of shy away from.
Anyway, I've been thinking about it and for some reason thinking especially about nursing homes and all the people tucked away there.
And I wonder what their stories are and who they loved and how they lived and what their most treasured memory would be and where they place their hope. And who is fighting for them? And do they feel invisible? And are they afraid?
And I just keep stirring the pot, letting these thoughts bubble and brew, waiting for them to spill over.