What does it feel like to be old?

Someone asked me that once, and I didn’t really know how to answer.
Not because I was offended, just surprised.
I don’t wake up every day thinking, “I’m old.”
I just wake up, stretch, and get on with it.
But later, when I sat with the question, I realized something:
Getting older isn’t something, I fear.
It’s something I’m learning to appreciate.
I’m not in a rush anymore.
I don’t worry about keeping up with everything and everyone.
Some days I get things done. Some days I don’t.
Either way, life moves on.
I’ve stopped trying to fix things that don’t matter.
I’ve learned that silence is an answer.
That peace is more important than being right.
And that some people will never understand you, and that’s okay.
There are things I’ve lost along the way… people, moments, parts of myself.
And yes, some of that still hurts.
But I also carry more love than I used to.
More patience. More softness.
More understanding of what really matters.
I no longer pretend to be fine when I’m not.
I don’t explain myself as much.
And I don’t waste time worrying about what people think of me.
If I want to sit and watch the sky for an hour, I will.
If I want to cry over an old memory, I won’t stop myself.
If I want to laugh at something silly, I’ll let myself.
Because I’ve learned that time doesn’t slow down.
And joy doesn’t wait for permission.
So if you ask me what it feels like to be old…
I’d say it feels like freedom.
The kind that comes with letting go of things you used to hold too tightly.
I don’t know how much time I have left, none of us do.
But I’m not wasting what’s left of mine chasing perfection.
I just want to live quietly, honestly, and in my own way.
And if that’s what being old feels like…
I’ll take it.