In less than two weeks, I will wake up and be 50 years old.
T reminds me that it’s just a number. I remind myself that it beats the alternative. Part of me is simply bemused by the development. I suspect that one of the secrets of life is that there is always a tiny core inside of you that feels 17. Hair turns grey, joints age, comfortable shoes now seem fashionable…..in every way, you have aged. But your inner 17 year old is still there, waiting to grow up, driving a little too fast, and playing the music a little too loud.
It’s a station wagon that you’re driving too fast. The music is from 1988. But still……
This is me at nearly 50.
I like the black and white version better. It covers a variety of sins.
It’s been two years since I broke up with contact lenses and I still don’t recognize myself in glasses. My hair is long because why not? I don’t have any makeup on because I am lazy on the weekend.
I’ve decided to take the approach I’d take to a car with 50,000 miles. The new smell is long gone, but there are plenty of miles left on this journey. And time enough to get after it.