I’ve always been comfortable with getting older. I have friends who have lamented it since they were 20 – ‘we’re so old, everyone in the clubs is younger than us… our friends are getting married… our friends are having babies… we’re getting mortgages… we’re getting married… we’re having babies… our kids are starting school, WE’RE SO OLD!’
I was ‘that’ friend – the one getting married and having babies first and I was totally comfortable with that. After all, age ain’t nothin’ but a number. Deep down inside my head, I still feel 19. In many ways I haven’t grown up much at all.
But something about moving into the new house has made me think about getting old. And not just older, properly OLD.
The people who sold our house to us were 90, they’d lived here for 20 years. At the end, the house and moving all became a bit much for them (hardly surprising, it was a bit much for me too). The lady admitted she wished they’d done it 10 years earlier than they were more able.
I laughed about that being us in 40 years. About the new 40 year olds moving in and thinking our white bathrooms were horrible and why didn’t we have coloured ones (because fashions always go round, don’t they?). And I felt quite sad about it. We’ve always said this would be our final move, so this is it now. We’re here to get old.
We’re not young any more. I don’t remember much about being a child, but I remember being 20 quite clearly and that doesn’t seem long ago at all. Another 20 years and we’ll be 60. Another 20 years after that and we’ll be 80, being wheeled out of our dream home by our nearly-old-themselves kids.
Until then, I need to live my life and enjoy it.
Is there anything that reminds you that you’re not getting any younger?