I love to spend time every week among people who are twenty,
thirty and even forty years older than I am. I’m a volunteer music therapist in
a care center, but honestly, it feels like I’m the one there for therapy. I always
go home feeling tired, but in a good way. I love the perspective those few
extra decades seem to have granted. Last June, when we held our sing-alongs outdoors,
social distanced and masked, I told them I’d just had my sixty-first birthday. They
laughed and said I was just a baby. Now we’re all fully immunized against COVID,
and we’re indoors again. We’re still six feet apart and (mostly) masked, but we’re
not in the sun and wind. I admire how well the residents have handled this past
year – as if the pandemic is just another series of punches they’ve learned to
roll with. When I grow up, I wanna be just like them.
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