The Gift Of Health

When Mom turned 90, I started calling her a  living legend—half joking, half in awe.

“Mom,” I’d say, “how’s it feel to be a living legend?”

She’d wave me off. “Oh, stop it,” she’d say, “I’m no legend.”
 
But I said, “Aww, c’mon, Bruce Springsteen gets called a living legend, and he’s only 65—25 years younger than you are."

Knowing my love of Bruce, she smiled and said,  “Okay . . .  you can call me that.”

My favorite definition of a legend? Someone who fills us with hope — and in this sense, Mom, now 99, truly is a living legend.  Her quiet strength, endurance, and grace have left a mark on us far beyond anything fame could offer. Mom is ninety-nine and, unbelievably, as of this writing, she still works out whenever she can.