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  • Gary Hunter

The Island of Aging - May 9, 2023

For many like me, we were in our 60’s when the boat dropped us off on the island. We all thought it was a layover. A quick stop for the sights, so we camped on the beach and waited for the pickup. We were cautioned that there were things here that could bite and wound, though they never said snakes or scorpions. And to watch for uneven ground and slippery areas that could trip and make us fall. They never warned of thorns, but of many things that could scratch, objects we should go around and chances we shouldn’t take. And caution above all else. They never came back.


As the years went by, the sea of time rose, the island shrank, and we were forced inland. Sure enough, their alerts to danger were forgotten and many stumbled, lost their way, became hobbled, bent over, unbalanced and needing assistance to go from one place to another, or never moved again.


I’ve been here a few years now and clearly see how much slower and stilted I’ve become.One day, I got a little dizzy and sat on an abandoned termite mound, rubbed the neuropathy now plaguing my left foot, realized I couldn’t hear the pounding surf anymore, and had the thought – I guess my smooth sailing days are over . . .

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