Growing old scares the Holy Bee-Gee's out of me. I try with all my might to fight it; but it's starting to look like I don't have much of a choice in the matter.

When I was in High School, I wrote an English paper on why I didn't want to live past thirty - because then I would be too old to enjoy life. Oh, the naivety of a child! I didn't even have good credit until my thirties!.

My husband is 13 years older than me. I met and moved in with him when I was 18 years of age and he was an ancient, crippled old man of 31. Everyone, including his parents, thought I was crazy and that it wouldn't last. (heck, even I thought it wouldn't last, but that's another story) A young, attractive (that was before the weight gain) girl, moving in, sleeping with, caring for an old geezer. Maybe I was crazy, but he treated me better than any of those young bucks did.

Now, we're grandparents. (Yes, that royally pissed me off; but I didn't have any choice in that matter either - stupid kids!) The fear of each gray hair, each crinkle when I smile, each muscle that groans when I rise in the morning, those fears are soothed and comforted by my husband who loves each and every hair, crinkle and groan. Best of all, I never have to worry about him leaving for a younger woman, I am the younger woman!

Putting that fact aside, is the most comforting fact of all. I have known him all my adult life. He has seen me at my very worse and at my very best. I know his faults and his virtues and he knows mine. We love each other anyway. Forgiveness is a necessary component in a lasting marriage.

I will grow old with my husband and walk into the sunset next to the man who loves me like no other would. Growing old scares me to death; but growing old with him, well, let's just say I wouldn't want it any other way. I love ya baby...