On Getting Older

019“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.” Robert Frost

The horizontal lines deepening on your forehead, or the slim crescent moons that bracket your smile.   Working out just to keep up with the kids, or savouring your relative strength to them while it lasts.  Feeling overlooked among the young women on the street, or striding confidently past the cluster of men.

Depending on the woman, the man, and the day, any of these experiences can feel false or true.  This week, 4Mothers discuss what it means to us to get older, whether we see it in our children, ourselves, our parents, our world.

Bigwig Oprah outed her views on it a couple of years ago; more recently I read this beautiful reflection by Karina Kenison on turning 55.  What do you think?  Join us this week as we chime in.  

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How I Know That I Am Getting Older

A few weeks ago we went out for a fancy schmancy dinner to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  It became clear to me that regardless of how young we feel that we have all stopped checking the 25-29 box.

Tequila shooters, Broken Down Golf Carts and Cement Mixers gave way to a full-bodied chianti and the conversation centered on work, kids, and biological clocks instead of hook-ups, student loans and wedding plans.

Everyone silently cheered that dinner was over before 11 pm so that we could all be home and in bed before the stroke of midnight.  We know there is no magic in being out past the stroke of midnight just brutally long mornings with whiney kids and/or clients.

While walking out of the restaurant we had to pass through the lobby bar.  It was brimming with so many scantily clad 20- somethings that when I looked down at what I was wearing, I felt like I was channeling my inner-Amish.

It wasn’t just the sartorial differences or the gaping abyss between sobriety and inebriation that reminded me that I am older more mature, it was the commentary from my friends:

“Wow, you can smell the desperation in here”.

 

I think that girl forgot to put on her pants.  Oh look, apparently no one wears pants anymore.”

“What’s with the weird facial hair?  That guy needs to trim his side burns.”

Just a few days later, as I was listening to 90’s on 9, XM radio, each song a nostalgic trip down memory lane, it hit me.

I have officially become my parents: I listen to music that is 20 years old, and question the fashion choices of “youth”.

When did it strike you that you are not necessarily as “young as you feel”?

 

photo credit: bookrenter.com