Somehow it happened. One day I was considered one of the “younger” ones at work and the next, I’m definitely one of the “older” ones. How did this happen? I look around the table at staff meetings and I feel older.
I shouldn’t complain, though, because I also have noticed that there’s a certain amount of respect given to someone who looks like he or she has some experience. So, maybe I should look at it that way. I’m not old – just experienced.
But age has been popping up more and more lately and, for someone in his mid-thirties, I never gave it much thought before now. But I am getting older. There’s no denying that. My hair (that which is not migrating North) is getting more gray and less black every day. My waist line isn’t what it used to be and I find myself saying things like “You were born in 1985? I remember 1985!”
Hopefully I can stay young enough to interact with the kids. That’s all I want. I used to have some delusion that I could keep my sprinting skills (Go CU!) sharp enough to challenge the kids well into their teen years. I’m not so sure that’s a realistic goal now. They’ll just have to listen to stories about how fast their “Old Man” was “back in the day.” (And I’ll try not to get faster as time goes by, but I can’t guarantee anything)
I guess that’s what I get for waiting so late to have kids. The good part is I got two kids at once so there won’t be a younger one who only sees Daddy in a walker.
Hobble on, friends.
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