I was speaking to my oldest nephew on the phone the other day when the youngest one, who’s almost 5, shouted into the phone “Auntie Brooke, you’re a grandma!” I laughed and said, “That’s fine I’ll be a grandma, older people get to say and do what they want without reprimand.” Remember when I told you all last year he said I was ancient? Well clearly his thoughts haven’t changed. Refer to my story called “Age” to refresh your memory. He’s had a smart ass mouth since he learned to speak and I encourage his freedom of expression as long as it isn’t harmful to himself or others. So when he said that, I just wondered has he seen the 8 silver hairs that seem to be strategically placed on the top part of my head? Has he heard the sound of my bones cracking like pop rocks every 15 minutes? I can assuredly say he has not paid attention to these details ever. He says I’m old because well...I’m 30 years older than him! I’m the Tyrannosaurus Rex to his Paw Patrol.

Honestly, I can’t wait until my hair is a complete glistening silver mane; until to get my AARP card, until women allow me to skip ahead of them in line in a public restroom or until I get in free to places or deep discounts just for being over the age of 70. But the ultimate satisfaction of becoming elderly is I’ll get to say whatever I want and afterward just shrug and say “ahh I’m old” because I earned that right and I dare anyone to test me. How liberating it must be to never have to truly apologize for cursing in front of whomever; having your family do your bidding, wait on you hand and foot and travel without limitations. All of those things as well as basically reciting an entire monologue about an event when you were younger without interruption are just little gems of what I can look forward to.

But I also understand all the aches and pains that come with getting older such as health risks, the ongoing government issues surrounding Social Security, people not acknowledging you because of your age, knowing that as you age so do your friends and family- which could bring on morbid thoughts. Even with the comprehension of these aspects and much more that comes with growing older, I get excited for what’s ahead. I know I’ll continue to drink lots of water, pray without ceasing, read daily, exercise regularly, practice yoga, eat healthily, smile, laugh and be playful for the rest of my life because that is what makes me, me- it’s in my DNA. You grow old once you stop playing not vice versa.

The famous colloquialism states “You’re only as old as you feel”, therefore I’m preparing to feel as good as I do in my 30’s when I’m in my 80’s. So to my youngest nephew, laugh now and get your strength up, because you’ll be crying later as you run my errands while I’m out having fun being old and doing grandma things.

Just here, practicing my Grandma looks.

My parents use to host spades games at our house with a couple family members when I was younger. Of course being the nosiest of the three children, I had to be all in the mix with the adults, so I asserted myself into their games. Someone (not sure who) said I could keep score instead of hawking in the doorway. I asked lots of questions to everyone’s dismay and learned to be the best score keeper in upstate New York (self-given title). I truly wanted to learn how to play spades. But sadly, what was told to me through clenched teeth and grunts didn’t stick and I did not learn.

Fast forward to every family gathering I have been to since childhood and still no one can be bothered to teach me, why is it that you are banned to the abyss if you don’t know how to play spades? I get that supposedly it’s “ingrained” within African American culture, but those genes skipped me and now I can’t even walk over to a card table without my anxiety reaching an all time high. I remember once in my early teen years I approached a group of my older uncles and aunts at a family reunion as they were picking teams to play and they were excited at first to have me, but once I told them I needed a little help the pitch of their laughter would’ve made the hair on your ears stand at attention. So I shrugged my shoulders and more than likely stole a wine cooler from the “adult drink bin” as I went off.

Spades is sneaky and more of a fighting game than a card game; people lose friendships, contact with family members and sometimes teeth if it gets physical. That never happens with games such as Pac Man, the infamous card game,“I Declare War” or Monopoly- well maybe with Monopoly. Let’s just say the next gathering where everyone wants to play spades, I’ll be suggesting Family Feud and if they mess up...well the name of the game speaks for itself, so there will be no surprises.

Have any of you experienced something like this? Also, if you have any tips for how to play spades, leave that in the comments too, clearly I need all the help I can get.