Life and Health... a pinch of salt

What am I willing to do to remain healthy? I guess a lot, because I've been through cancer surgery and having a partial knee replacement to prolong my life. I think I've reached the best part of my life, where I can start to do things I enjoy just because I enjoy them. My responsibilities are fewer now, because my most important work of raising my children is done. They turned out even better than I could have expected, and are both very interesting and successful people. I'm thrilled for them, and I'm really thrilled to have my grandchildren to love. Life around them is chaotic and joyful and I just enjoy it to the hilt. Both kids married very nice people who are devoted to their kids and spouses, so I'm quite relaxed and confident that my grandchildren are in very good hands.

Now occasionally I write poems. I did that in my early 20's too, and I'm not sure why I stopped. Maybe I can find some of the old poems and post them here, plus the new ones too. They're just about my life and the people around me. I like them, but you'll have to judge for yourself. I've been chided for them not being joyful, but I guess that why I like them is because for me they ring true. Maybe in spite of my joyful optimism there's a morose side to my character that comes out in the poems? A mouthful of sugar is too sweet. To make a tasty cake you need sugar, flour, eggs, milk... and a pinch of salt.

Why I Like Gray

I was folding clothes on the table with the help of my granddaugher, Elsa. She was about 4 at the time and quite the little pal. We got to the bras and Elsa commented that they were bras. I confirmed that yes, the items we were folding were bras.
"I LIKE gray." she announced, with innocent firm conviction.
That's when I realized that they were all gray. Bras cannot be bleached without losing their elasticity, so the older they get the grayer they get. Beige, fleshtoned, white, and even pastels inevitably become gray, no matter how well you care for them. I've always hung them to dry instead of using the dryer, which prolongs bra life for many years. Soon after this incident I made a trip to the mall to aquire some fresh bras, but it stuck in my mind.
I realized that the gray bras are perfectly servicable veterans of a long and useful career. There is nothing shameful in their grayness and I have continued using them and noting that as time passes they eventually have begun developing defects that have affected their usefullness and precipitated their disposal. The new bras have begun their conversion to gray and are gradually replacing the veterans as they naturally fall apart under use.
The gray bras could have all been pitched and replaced, but somehow it didn't seem like an honest and upright thing for me to do. They had served me well and didn't deserve to be thrown out. Outside of their honorably aquired dinginess, they were perfectly useful and I've let them live out their lives as nature intended.
There's a lesson in here somewhere, if you can only find it.