Time Is Not Enough

Now and then I encounter elderly characters in fiction or essays who are portrayed as being filled with ennui, tired of life and kept from ending it only by fear. I think the authors must be relatively lacking elderly acquaintances and friends. As an old lady I've known many old people and they are usually less bored with life than most of the teen aged people I know. I admit to a certain amount of impatience with my ebbing strength and increasing folio of deviations from youthful health. I have so much I want to do and learn and less vigor to accomplish my projects such as building a 'three sisters' keyhole garden to replace the grass in my backyard. My problem with death is that it will end my work as an artist, at least for a while, and I won't be hugging grandchildren without a physical body to use. But since I believe that sometime after death I will receive a new and better version of my mortal body, I only fear the actual process of death. I truly relish the prospect of eternity to learn and work and love.