Barbara J. Hamby

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The Achers

My partner, Al, and I are both seventy-five years old. It’s good that we can relate to each other’s aches and pains, and old memories. However, some days one or the other or both of us, feel as if we’re carrying the combined 150 years of age.

This morning he asked me if I ever felt like turning the clock back to age sixty-five. I jokingly answered, “About three times a day.”

In the good old U.S. of A. we like to label anything and everything. We have Baby Boomers, X Generation, etc. Maybe those of us over seventy-five could be called the Achers, at least those of us who have achy-breaky bodies. I know there are some among us who aren’t cursed with arthritis. There are some who dance all night and perform other athletic feats. They probably wouldn’t appreciate being placed in a bracket with such a name. But some of us need to whine a little now and then.