I have trouble calling these “the golden years.”  To me they seem more like the Hide-and-Seek years.  Increasingly, a large percentage of each day is devoted to “Where are my keys?” or “Have you seen the book I was reading?” or “What did I do with that letter from the insurance company?”

I try to remember my father’s advice: “A place for everything and everything in its place.”  It is helpful, of course, if I can recall what the “place” for a particular thing is.  But I would be willing to swear that anything smaller than the couch or the dining room table can and does join the on-going hide-and-seek game in our house.  I’m almost always “it.”

Although, lately, Nyel has been “it” a few times which is kind of scary.  I rely on him to know (and remember) where the pieces of our lives are.  “Look in the microwave.” Or “I think it’s on the arm of the Morris chair.”  Or “Did it ever get in from the car?”  Those are the responses I count on to point me in the right direction.

Another game I seem to play a lot these days is akin to Pick Up Sticks.  I am forever carefully sorting mail or laundry or groceries and putting each thing in that proper place Dad lectured about.  Carefully so as not to disturb the order of those things that are already filed away.  God forbid a bill that needs immediate attention should go in the pile of correspondence that may or may not be dealt with this month. Or even next month.

The other day at lunch, Cherry said she tries to shelve her books alphabetically like we did in the bookstore when she was working for us.  “Great idea!” I thought.  Even though I KNOW a book is on a shelf in my office, I can seldom lay hands on it without a time-consuming search.  I wonder if she alphabetizes by author or title?  Which would be more helpful?  And what about the other books in our house — probably more than 5,000 of them?

And suddenly I’m into Twenty Questions.  Do you think this is what is meant by getting childlike in old age?  Perhaps…