My brother pointed out that I haven’t written in a while. I start and then delete the post thinking it’s dumb. Nothing exciting is happening and yet this is a good thing. Today Sanj and I grabbed lunch and he was talking was talking about middle age, and I made the comment that we WERE middle age. His reply was, “You’re past middle age, unless you live to be 100 years old.” That made me pause! I suppose it is a little depressing to think that I am past middle age. But then again, what really is age? I never really think of myself growing old.
I have alway thought that “when I’m older I’ll be more mature.” And then I realized that some who I have become 50 and am still kinda immature! I have the epiphany that THIS is me. I am going to be an 80 year old wearing my quirky tee-shirts that makes my kids and brother ask, “Where do you find these shirts?!!” I am going to be an 80 year old who wears flip flops till snow is on the ground. I am not going to be a sexy sultry high heel woman with age. I am going to continue to be a clumsy, tripping over myself, praying that don’t break any parts of my body. I will bat my eyes not in a flirty nature but rather because there’s something in my eye. I will continue to rub my eyes, forgetting I put eyeliner on and end up with raccoon-like eyes. Sigh.
I will still be me. I will be me with more wrinkles, thinning grey hair, more moustache hair then on my head. Sigh. And I will still be quirky. Poor Sanj. I have told Sanj I wish I was sultry. You know, look like in the movies… and Sanj knowing me, always laughs! Laughs! Ok, and then I face reality and giggle! I would probably get a concussion and give one to Sanj in the process.
Here’s the thing: I don’t feel my age. I know the number changes and yet I don’t feel like I change. Do you feel this way too? I know I am done having babies and yet I miss that. How is it possible that I hear Sanj and the boys talking about grandkids? I am not anywhere near old enough to be a grandma, am I? And then I realize that yes, it is possible! I’m not opposed to being a grandma when that time is here, in fact I will love it. But… just the fact that I can be a grandma seems crazy since I still feel made 40.
I am sure there have been times when Sanj sometimes just shakes his head. Or stares at me in disbelief. Or wonders if I will grow up. Or maybe he doesn’t because he lives with constant entertainment. I mean he really doesn’t know what may come out of my mouth or when I will trip over myself and break something. But I have realized that he means what he says. He loves me as me. Isn’t that so crazy? Or he has just resigned himself to the good, bad, quirky, unfiltered me. How lucky am I?
So I am writing as I think about the fact that this is me! Period. I will grow older physically but I think mental, maturationally, THIS IS ME!