So it turns out I might be the old girl on this new block, not that this is a bad thing. I’ve been hanging out with young people on the regular for years – my kids are young people, they married young people and a couple of them have produced even younger people of their own – I’m fairly comfy around young people. But… and it’s a big BUT… I’m not so sure I want to be the gramma on this new block, the elder, the wise woman. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Older doesn’t necessarily equate to wiser – white hair and wrinkles aren’t always an indicator of experience, sometimes they’re just evidence of the passage of time. I’ve been around for a while, I am entitled to the senior’s discount, but I’m not certain I’ve garnered enough life experience to be any good at wise-womaning. I’ve lived quite a sheltered life.
I’ve always had someone looking out for me, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold. Even these days when I am seemingly going it alone I’m not really – lots of people are looking out for me, mostly young people. My kids have stepped up in a fashion that would do their father proud – heck, they do me proud on the daily. I don’t know what I would do without them. Young people are the bomb.
Being the old girl on the block is a bit of a slap in the face if I’m truthful – when I’m talking to young people, sharing a laugh or a bottle of wine, I don’t feel as seasoned as I am. I actually feel the same age as the person I’m talking to. It’s only when faced with my own reflection that I notice that the years have snuck up on me. In my reflection I see the accumulation of all the stories I’ve been part of – the good and the not so good, the laugh lines and the frowns. The young people on my block are bringing out my better stories – and in turn they are making me feel younger. Maybe if I can stay away from mirrors for a while perhaps I will learn to fit right in.