Before the next Journal hits the mailboxes it will be 2009. Hard to believe, isn't it? I remember thinking that the world was going to explode or something the year it turned 2000. I think I sat in a corner in my basement all day long.

Thankfully, we're still here, just a little older and, we hope, a little wiser.

With each passing year I learn a little something more about life, and rightly so. I care less about things that used to keep me up nights and I care more about things that used to seem meaningless.

Yes, I've begun to check the obituaries every morning (well actually, not in the morning, since the Augusta Chronicle decided to deny the paper to those of us in the county; I have to borrow my mother's paper) and rejoice when my name is not there.

Oddly enough, getting older is not as traumatic as I once thought it was. There are perks that come with aging and I intend to take advantage of all of them come 2009.

Old age, many of us have come to realize, is a gift.

My co-grandmother (aka my son's mother-in-law) sent me the following and it is definitely worth sharing. It is written from a woman's point of view but men can definitely identify. Enjoy.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging derriere. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over it for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, and my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself.

I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio.

I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or stay on the computer until 4 a.m. and sleep until noon?

In 2009, I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's, 60's, and 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will.

I will eat dessert every single day if I like it. And I'll eat it before my meals.

I don't worry as much about my health as I once did. I agree with Mark Twain who said, "Be wary of reading health books; you may die of a misprint."

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I so choose, despite pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a car hits somebody's beloved pet?

But, broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy and freedom of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

Getting older is inevitable but the biggest secret is, you don't have to act your age.

Things that were important twenty years ago are less so now. Back then I still held on to the idea preached by the media that, with enough exercise, moisturizer, and makeup, aging could be avoided.

So, while I know I'm not going to live forever, as long I'm here I will not waste time lamenting what could have been or worrying about what will be.

I'm going to do my best to look on the bright side of life no matter how many clouds obscure my view. I'm going to laugh, a good belly laugh, once a day if it kills me.

I wish for you, dear hearts, many laughs in the coming year and I hope the following gives you your first:

Two elderly ladies meet at the pharmacy after not seeing one another for some time. After inquiring about each other's health, one asked how the other's husband was doing.

"Oh! Ted died last week. He went out to the garden to dig up a cabbage for supper, had a heart attack and dropped dead right there in the middle of the vegetable patch!"

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry," replied the friend. "What in the world did you do?"

"Opened a can of peas instead." Happy New Year, dear hearts.