It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. This was, at one time, what I considered to be the best opening line of any book written. It’s from A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dicken’s novel, described in the cliff notes as a plot that explores themes of social injustice, revolution, love, sacrifice, and redemption as characters navigate the turmoil of both personal and political upheaval. Sound familiar? It certainly does to me.

That simple title summarizes the way I feel, not only about the state of our world, but also the constant and dramatic shifts within my own life and body as I move from the past decade of my life to the next, enduring unexplained and unfamiliar physical conditions, the occasional physical, psychological and emotional struggle to maintain equilibrium prompted by rapid external and internal change and the fear of the unknown.

Some of what is happening now is not a surprise. I was warned by those in my life who have surmounted the climb from sixty to seventy, as they shared the benefit of their experience with me. But I’m relatively sure, they left much of the details aside not wanting to discourage me in advance. I’ve only just entered this new decade and have already seen a glimpse of what is to come, the changes that suddenly appear, seemingly out of nowhere, that require a whole new calibration of rest, nutrition, exercise and tenacity far exceeding what was required a few years ago.

What I could never have predicted is the unsettled external conditions that have my nervous system on high alert, wondering if I’m significantly prepared to face the undoing of what I believed to be a compassionate and responsive system of providing for the elderly, not that I have arrive at that milestone as of yet, but if all goes as planned, I will. The haunting question is what will I find waiting there? Will it be a culture that honors elders as the keepers of knowledge and wisdom, or will we be seen as a drain on the financial condition of society. It’s a pretty bleak outlook if I allow myself to speculate based on what is happing at present.

With no family of my own, other than my husband who is my same age, I often wonder how I will fare. I remember how involved I had to be in my own mother’s life when she reached the era of rapid decline, how I checked in every day, provided food when she no longer cooked, became her driver when she no longer felt safe to drive, kept her finances in order, and advocated for her medical care and end of life wishes. It’s a daunting realization that I may need support and have no one waiting in the wings to provide it. That thought weighs heavy on me these days.

But then, there are the best of times, the simple and often overlooked experiences that seemed insignificant to the younger woman I was, so busy and too preoccupied to notice. Now, each one is a treasure. I cherish the chance to sit at the roots of a 2400 year old Sequoia that reminds me to stand tall and endure as best I can whatever comes with strength and courage, to witness a rising sun or a storm brewing on the horizon, the moments that literally take away my breath with their majesty. There are the times, I feel so loved and chosen by the sweet little girls who recently came into my life, whose innocence and affection have cracked open my heart in a way I didn’t think would ever be possible. The sense of wonder discovering salmon spawning in the creek and my sincere joy at the return of a silly bird who pecks at my window when he arrives back from winter migration as though greeting me like a long lost friend. There are the intimate conversations, and also, the moments of silence experienced with a friend, known so long and well that no words are needed, just the warmth of a gentle hand offered in comfort.

The changing conditions and marching on of time are inevitable, there’s no denying or escaping the destination, and there is the chance it could be a rough ride at times. But, there is also an assurance, perhaps it’s faith or hope that allows me to carry on, not knowing, only trusting there will always be enough grace, solace, beauty and love to buoy me through the turbulence.

That may be the magic of the juxtaposition - the secret truth of how one navigates the best of times and the worst and embraces it all.