Sixty-four is the number. It is the number of years. 

My years.

Here on planet earth, collaborating with people and places and things, I’ve lived on this traveling circle. 

Years ago sixty-four sounded old. Very old. Now that number feels not all that old. It seems like just another number about months and years and decades. 

I do not remember many of my birthdays. A few people, a few parties, a few gifts. But not all that many considering the number sixty-four.

Other people and other things, I remember. Family and friends, songs and stories, I remember. Ball games and seasons, I remember. Deep sadness and pleasant gladness, I remember. 

Childhood memory retention and infantile amnesia indicate I’m not the only person who has traveled through decades while now forgetting many of the encounters. Fragmented recollections occupy our stories. 

The ability to remember new information peaks in our 20s, they say, and begins a noticeable decline in our 50s or 60s. We can try new trends and exercises with neuroplasticity, but the hippocampus shrinks and some cognitive abilities can decline. 

So, yes, we age. Working new tricks and keeping the brain active is good, but we age. 

I have. I have aged. 

I mention it in my book coming out October 1, Things We’ve Handed Down. And I’m journaling about it here as my age number rises. 

What does it all mean? I’m older now. And I’m fine with that. 

Instead of wishing I was still young, I choose to cherish this season. 

Join me. In accepting your age. In embracing your story. In receiving an invitation to make a positive difference in however many days we live here. Join me. 

Here on planet earth, let’s live on this traveling circle. Even with our fragments and our declines, let’s do our part to show God’s love to all people of all ages. 

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12, NIV)