I am starting to feel old.
Not feel like a grownup – despite the husband and the mortgage and the nice respectable career, that feeling still eludes my grasp. I just feel old more often than I’d like.
It’s hard to ignore the signs. I’ve got some grey hairs growing in. Right at my part, of course, and sticking straight up where they can catch the sun and reflect rays back in blinding silver. My joints creak dangerously when I get out of bed. I say “oof” more often than I want to, when I’m changing position. Without my pill reminder, I would forget to take my pills. My feet hurt sometimes for absolutely no reason. I buy underwear for comfort. I think my doctor might be younger than me.
Older family members are slowing down, taking more medications and fewer risks. The oldest ones are leaving me.
Time is moving faster. My nephew is talking. Thanksgiving is here again. I’ve been far from home for almost 5 years. Married two-and-a-half. How is any of that possible?
I can’t ask time to stop, of course. If it did, I’d never see how my nephew will look as a teenager. Or how that Hobbit movie will turn out. I just wish I knew how to slow my perception of time’s passing, to make it easier to enjoy all the moments. To cherish what’s here and what’s now. It’s so very important that I learn how, so I don’t look back and wonder how I missed so much.