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This past Christmas my children (ages 42, 39, and 37) were here to celebrate our 45th (that is forty-fifth) anniversary. My birthday was also at that time and we all were together to honor this matriarch who brought them into this world.
Sixty-six (that is 66) years of living is difficult to comprehend.
I still look kinda like a 35 (that is thirty-five) year old in my own mind. Here is our community of 55+, we ARE the kids, because we are surrounded by those in their 80s and 90s. I look young. More than that, I think young.
Our grand-daughters are 11.5 and 13 years old. I hang out with them and I love every minute of it.
One girl at a time, we attack the mall and cruise around stores, like Hot Topics and Lunchbox. We also check out the earrings in Claire's and then the hot shoes in Macy's. There are other places, but their selections are slutty and cheap. We hold them up and laugh at them.
Our first stop is always at Starbucks, always. That is the only place where I treat them. They bring their own money, and are careful in their purchases.
We get photos taken in the kiosk where it now costs $5 (!) for strips of photos. We are goofy, select crazy themes, giggle at each other, and share the prints.
Then, on another day, the second girl heads there with me, and we head all around. We may go to the same places, but those hold totally different experiences.
What is the best thing is that they talk with me, tell me stuff, just like I am almost one of them. And I share my own stuff with them. Tell them stories of my own teen years and family, passing part of me down to them. Most of the time they listen.
Part of it is that I move just a little closer to their tween world, am allowed to peek into their experiences, learn more about these years of their lives, and have latched onto their language and most of their idioms. Their enthusiasm becomes mine, their youthful mannerisms are reflected in me.
How can the mirror lie so blatantly? Doesn't it know?
Sunshine (11.5 years), Grandma (66 years), and Bright Eyes (13 years) Worth every year. |
P.S. Sometimes when the phone rings and I answer it (usually it is the doctor office), the voice at the other end always verifies my age. How old did you say? Really? Let me check your birthdate. Yes, you are that age. You sound so young.... This is not true, just a wish of mine. I am a liar. Sigh.