A few months ago, Cliff said, “I have something for you to consider.”
That line always makes me nervous. And although the question ended up being a generous one, it did reach deep into the OH NO WHAT SHOULD I DO region of my brain.
“Would you like a new stove?”
Normally, I spring at the chance for something new. The word “new” suggests small miracles like more heat or a washing machine that doesn’t dance across the floor.
But a new stove.
Our stove is sixty years old. It came with the house. It’s roasted turkeys, sent fudge to a rolling boil, baked birthday cakes, simmered spaghetti sauce, heated hot chocolate and winter wine, and melted Shrinky Dinks (actually not so many Shrinky Dinks lately but I’m hoping those days will come again).
The stove is down to two burners, one of two ovens, and wouldn’t think of self-cleaning itself. If you look at the picture, you’ll see a strip of masking tape on the left. That’s to remind us not to press those switches because if we do, we might recreate the Christmas Eve Stove Fire of 2004.
But still, the answer to the stove question was NO. Our stove is the Senior Stateswoman of the Kitchen. For now, she stays.
And here’s another question. If I could trade ME in for a newer version, would I?
When I look at the age spots on my face, hear the creak of my feet, or feel the tinges that I suspect are the start of arthritic hands, I am tempted to trade this one in.
But then I remember the birthday parties, the Thanksgivings, the spaghetti suppers, and the Shrinky Dink Festivals this body has helped engineer. Good times. Great times!
For now, I’ll keep this model. I suspect the day may come when I shout, “Yes! Send something new.”
But not yet.
What about you?
No matter your age, if you could trade your body for someone else’s, would you?
If you could trade your older body for a younger version of you, would you?
Photo: Daughter Laura’s boyfriend Matt flipping Christmas pancakes 2011. Thanks, Matt and thanks, Stove! Photo was taken by Laura for her blog, Taking Back My Twenties.
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