|My little sister Betty (left) and I are learning what old age is all about. She turns 65 in February; I'll be 68 in September. All photos by John except where noted.|
Now that we’re in our 60s, my sister Betty and I spend a lot of time discussing the mysteries of aging. Our necks. The paper-thin skin over the knuckles. Feet so hot that standing in a snowbank at midnight is a good solution.
We’ve both had the old-person’s transit experience before, but during her recent visit to Vancouver from Quebec, we got it in stereo. On a packed Canada Line car, polite young people on each side of the aisle both offered us their seats, almost simultaneously. Betty, who always sees the funny side of things, thought it was hilarious. The shift from the two little girls she remembers to the present-day reality was too much.
“We’ve always been young together,” she laughed when I inquired. “And now we’re two old ladies.”
|The generations come and go. Betty, her daughter-in-law Aya (carrying daughter Emi) and me in North Vancouver.|
|Betty, who wore her hair short during most of her career, decided she wanted to experience long hair again now that she's retired. It's now like I remember it from her youth.|
|Betty and I ponder deep questions while her son Etienne and Aya make dinner.|
|The cooks in the kitchen. Betty was visiting to see their new home.|
|Betty and I agreed it's a relief not to have to worry about appearances so much in our old age. The goal, we decided, was not to look alarming. She doesn't look alarming at all when I took this picture of her during breakfast at our place.|