I had an eye opening and nostalgic conversation with our four year old the other day. When we were at the pool, he inquired, “Mom do you remember the 1980’s?”
“Yes, honey,” I answered after a silent chuckle, “I was in high school and college at the time.” Where was he going with this?
Then he asked, “Can you tell me a story about the 1980’s?”
Holy cow! I remember asking my mom to tell me stories about the “olden days”. Now my son was doing the same to me, and even though it’s hard to believe, he was considering the 1980’s as the “olden days.” Am I really that old?!?
Coincidentally, my sister asked about my health in a recent e-mail. I didn’t realize the significance at the time, but isn’t that what you ask of mature (i.e., old) women? I begrudgingly admit here that I answered, “A few aches and pains but otherwise fine.”
Is that an old lady answer, or what? Now I’m on a mission to age gracefully. And by that I mean embracing by gray hairs and arthritic knees as signs of experience, wisdom, and maturity. No plastic surgery or hair dye for this mama (can’t afford the time!). My dad used to say he didn’t mind getting older because the alternative wasn’t much better. Way to sum it up, Dad. A little morbid but poignant all the same.