On the Importance of Having a Balcony

It’s early morning and I’m sitting on a balcony overlooking a small courtyard at the back of the Byward Blue Inn in downtown Ottawa. Mark and I have come here to our nation’s capital to visit for the weekend with our niece Tracey, her fellow, Andre, and their two irrepressible boys, Thierry, age 7 and Etienne, age 5. We were welcome to bunk in with them at their house in a subdivision in the far western extremes of Ottawa, places that were, I presume, still farmers’ fields when I last lived in Ottawa. But, being of advanced years and able to recognize and articulate what would work best for a pleasant and leisurely visit, we chose to find our own digs at the centre of the metropolis, right in the heart of the storied Byward Market. What a great place! This area has the panache of Toronto’s St Lawrence market but is spread over several city blocks in century-old buildings and in the streets themselves. It is considerably upscale from our Kensington market (and in the main, more expensive); you can get almost any desired delicacy in these shops, and browsing about one is easily drawn into desiring many of them. We had fun there in the late afternoon gathering food to take to Tracey’s place for a barbeque.

But to get back to my balcony: I’ve recently been viscerally impressed with importance of a balcony for anyone like myself who lacks a garden. And not just any balcony. It must be one which overlooks a setting of natural beauty, capable of nurturing the citified beasts that most of us have become. In Puerto Vallarta our balcony opens us up to the ocean, the palm trees of the malecon below, and to the vision of the birds that soar overhead in the breezes coming from both the ocean itself and from the mountains behind. Our deck off the kitchen on Major St looks into the forest of trees and gardens that fill the expanse of yards between Major and Brunswick. In the early morning with even some traffic hum from nearby Bloor St, the sense of tranquillity in this spot is deeply nurturing. As in Puerto Vallarta I enjoy breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, and sometimes supper taking in its beauties, listening to the birds and watching the athleticism of our resident squirrels. Just being there gives a meditative quality, a depth, to one’s experience. I recognize that wherever Mark and I decide to live after we leave our rented apartment on Major, an essential feature will be a balcony that opens out onto nature.

Bette Davis is reported (possibly) to have uttered the famous phrase, “Old age is not for sissies.” Alright, there are attendant difficulties: the periodic or chronic aches and pains, the death of loved ones, losing one’s nouns (where DID I put them?). But there are wonderful things as well. I find myself able to enjoy simple things that I might have simply run past without notice in earlier years, too busy, too taken by various pursuits to savour. Even in what I think of as the young elderly years, those around and for some time after turning 65, in which one’s energy and pursuits don’t differ greatly from pre-senior existence, I continued a quite full-time therapy practice with three on-going groups, spent weekends at our cottage in Orillia, often with Theoren and Emily in tow, and, indulged in the buying and selling of antiques and other curiosities obtained at the local Dubeau’s auction house. So much fun!

Now in what I call the middle years of my seniority, I haven’t the energy, the opportunity, or my previously consuming interest for these activities. I have a small practice now – 6-12 sessions a week – and I enjoy it very much; my group work ended a few years back. The grandchildren are now teenagers; mommy no longer needs them to be cared for on the weekends that she is working, and, they are more focussed on being with their own buddies than with hanging out with the old folks – though we still have fun when we get together. Billie has moved westward with her mom, so she isn’t available to us as she once was. I gave up my buying and selling several years ago. So much energy needed especially for the organizing and selling part. The buying was always fun!

Spending a few hours with Tracey and the boys and then a few minutes with Andre after he returned from playing soccer, reminded me of the vast gulf in responsibilities and energies needed to manage daily between their generation and ours. Tracey had just finished a week’s work in a demanding and stressful federal agency. She picked up the boys from their day camp; still full of beans, they were romping about the house when we arrived. Andre plays soccer twice a week in the evenings as does Tracey. One of them feeds and corralls the lads into their showers and beds. Tracey was clearly pooped. We had supper together in the family room. I had one eye on the Blue Jays vs Detroit ball game on the large TV at the end of the room and the other on the antics of the boys, who are nonetheless responsive to Tracey’s definitively authoritative gaze. Etienne is a natural clown, an imp with a grand repertoire of faces and moods with which to cajole attention. He is very funny. Thierry, the big brother holds his own. Once they were in bed we sat about chatting briefly but then returned to our own place to let Tracey and Andre who had just returned, settle into their own end of the busy week relax. Work, sports, and kids: a full agenda to be sure.

I know from watching my parents’ experiences that in the later stages of real old age, that one’s world narrows as ones limitations increase. I will depend more in some ways on the care and judgement of my kids and maybe even of my grandchildren. But all of that is ahead. Right now I feel fortunate to be in what I think of as the golden years of my golden years. I am freer than I have ever been to make decisions about what I want to do and where I want to be than I have ever been. The brain still works; the body still works; I have a profession that I find satisfying but which does not absorb all of my time and energy; I am fairly financially independent; there are people whom I love and who love me too; I have a very fine husband/companion with whom to travel and who is always ready to try something new. So I consider myself to be a wonderfully fortunate person, one fully able to appreciate the joys of being in possession of a balcony.