There are things I appreciate now that I’m older that I didn’t give a hoot about a few short decades ago. A good can opener is one of those things. I have a fancy one now and it cost way less than a Mazzerati. I can whip open a can of corn in record time like I am cutting loose a slab of soft butter from the stick. And along this vein, here’s a nod to stemless wine glasses, simple remote controls, old dogs who are as tired as you are, and suitcases with wheels.

I appreciate my garbagemen, and I mean really appreciate them. I drag the cans out to the curb on Monday and the next morning the garbage men come and cart away the refuse of my recent past. I never used to stop to think about the people who circle through my existence or fully appreciate how well my postwoman knows me.

Nice sheets make me happy. Organic flax to be exact. If you’ve made it past forty years, have worked and toiled and slaved and labored, you deserve to crawl into a hotel-like bed every night from now until you die. And throw some really good pillows into that cart, too. Everyone who retires should get good sheets from their boss at the company retirement party.

And weekends. I love staying home on the weekends. Saturdays stretch out before you like a clean, white slate, with nothing to do, nowhere to be. Whatever you decide to do is your own personal folly, even if you mow the lawn or bake a cake, it’s all about you.

I appreciate silence in a way I never have before–the silence when I awake before everyone else and sit with tea at a table in the kitchen. The silence of a summer evening on the porch, that last sixty minutes of sun in August when you’re alone and the magic hour begins. And I now appreciate people who can just sit quietly–not on their phone, or engaged in something digital, but just quietly sitting, taking in the world and possibly thinking big thoughts. When you were young, do you remember seeing older people sitting on their porches for long stretches? Is that you today?

I appreciate simplicity– simplicity in everything. I want to wear comfortable pants and a cotton t-shirt more than anything. Did I used to wear high heels? I want to make a simple chicken dish instead of laboring over a complex recipe from Cook’s Illustrated. In my 30’s and 40’s, I’d make Coq A Vin. Today I just want baked chicken and mashed potatoes. A simple soup. An apple.

And I appreciate simplicity in relationships. Who has time for competition? Or petty rifts, prolonged disputes? I appreciate people who don’t gossip, but instead have interesting things to talk about.

I now appreciate responsibility–people who get back to you, businesses that stand behind their product or service, and people who do what they say they’re going to do. When you’re young, you don’t realize the word literally turns because of people’s words and their intentions.

It took a long time to understand that one day, I would relish the quiet, or that I would appreciate simplicity. And it’s this–this great slowing of the engines that finally has you sitting on the porch, holding a book and listening to the birds. It’s a process, really, this mellowing like a fine wine.

Everyone my age tells me they love going to bed. You’d think, by the way they talk about it, going to bed was the greatest thing that ever happened to anyone. It used to be a thing we had to do and now it is a joy.

And I appreciate time, especially what five minutes has come to mean: five more minutes of sleep; five more minutes until the timer on the stove goes off; five more minutes of sunlight; five more minutes to say goodbye at the airport. Five minutes is a long time but I never knew it until now. To live long enough to know it is a privilege.