I am in my mid –sixties. I remember grimacing when I entered my mid forties and fifties. To tell the truth, I was iffy about my mid-thirties. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that each decade I wish for the last one to be back.
I think it would be wise to assume if I make it to my mid-70’s that this is the time I would be wishing back. I must remember that today and tomorrow and so forth. I imagine I will forget.
When you get older, it dawns on you that the childhood other people are remembering was your mid-twenties or mid- thirties and so forth. The comforting memories of your own childhood mean nothing to them: fireflies caught in a jar, dressing up for trips into town, no fast-food places, handmade comforters with no designer names, and speaking of comforters: grandmas that looked like grandmas – grey hair, housedresses and clunky laced shoes with heels.
Okay, stopped thinking for now.
I’m just two years shy of my mid-sixties and I agree with your post. Just today I told my hairdresser that I’m always surprised, when I look in the mirror and see my mother looking back at me. In my mind I still look like I did in my thirties (my best phase of life weight and looks wise).
I feel so old when I meet people who don’t know who the Beatles were, or what a rotary phone was or that people used to sit on the porch and talk to their neighbors after the evening meal. Sigh…I do feel old today, but tomorrow, tomorrow I will feel better.
Even I understand this. Butt hen I hae discovered that my childhood was not typical of others my age. I lived a childhood about 10 years behind the times, very simplistic, and very good.
Today is my mother’s birthday. She would have been 87 today. I can’t imagine my mom at 87. I can’t even picture her smile without the help of a photograph anymore. We have very few photographs of her, seems she was always the one behind the camera. (A lesson to me, let my family take my picture, it might be appreciated in the future).
My mom is always 54 in my mind. Forever 54.
Given the choice I’ll take the mid 50s, and the mid 60s and so on and so forth. Being eternally young only in someone’s mind is not my goal.
Ah crap, now I’m crying. 32 years gone and I still miss her.
A very good point. Were Rose there she would wipe your tears with her soft mitten-like hands, and we all here join in sending you quiet feelings of comfort.