“…For your age. I mean, you’re almost forty!” This said to me after being asked my age by a twenty year old. “Gee thanks,” I said.
No one has ever put my age in front of me like that before this evening. Wow. I never really thought of myself as growing older, or old, I mean, I am after all the “baby” in my family and inside I still feel like I’M the twenty year old—just a little wiser than I was sixteen years ago.
Holy crap! It all started to sink in just two seconds after hearing it and having the hair on my arm rise up. Time is flying by faster and faster every year and I AM almost 40! This year I’m going to turn 37 and what have I done with my life? I mean, that girl may as well have told me that I’ve already lived half my life because for some strange reason that is what I heard!
I have to hurry now! I need to go back to my career immediately! I have to get to Italy, Spain, Australia, Austria, New Zealand, China, and all the states in the U.S. I’ve never been too. I have to COMPLETE the work on my house, learn Spanish fluently, and a ton of other things on my list of things to do before I die!!
“I hope that didn’t sound bad. I just meant that you don’t even look like you’re twenty-five. You look great.”
Uh-huh. OK. Thanks, I feel great, and it has never been an issue for me, until it was stated so directly, yet, with such naiveté—or was it?