When I look in the mirror, I’m always a little bit surprised
to see that lady who’s looking back at me.
That’s not me, is it? I mean, that lady has kids and a mortgage
and responsibilities! She’s got lots of
grey hair and an extra chin, too, but that’s the least of it. When others see her, they see a grown up. A grey-haired, bifocal-wearing, adult with
bags under her eyes and responsible, serious thoughts in her head. That can’t be right!
When I wake up, there’s no doubt that the way my body feels
corresponds with the image in the mirror.
The shell has aged. The knees
creak and the exterior is shabby. But
the heart and the head never seem to mature.
There’s a metaphysical belief that when you leave this
earth, you will appear on the other side in your most comfortable age. For most, that seems to be about 30-ish,
which I guess makes sense. At 30, most
people are pretty sure of who they are, what they believe, and are anchored in
to their lives, comfortable in their own skin.
I don’t know how I’ll appear on the other side. All I know is that here on earth, I find
myself constantly reminding Me that I am no longer 16. Or 21.
Or even 30. What a letdown! Because, at any given moment, that’s exactly
how I feel. How can people ask my
opinion on local government or climate/lawn care or expect me meet and confer
with teachers? Can’t they see that I’m
just a kid myself?!?!
When I see teens walking down my street and I smile and say
hello to them, they brace themselves, expecting the old lady (me!) to yell at
them to get off my lawn and turn the music down! My peers!
They call me ma’am and scurry away.
Talk about a rude awakening! When
my 8 and 5 year olds are plotting something, I should be preparing to scold
them (or whatever the proper grownup response may be) but instead I stand back
and watch, because I KNOW what they’re thinking. I remember clearly what is going on in their
heads. I can’t yell at them for acting
like a kid when I’m playing the same scenario in my head, can I?
When I have to make official phone calls or deal with
“authority figures” of any type, I’m transported back to the principal’s
office. Of course, I always pull it
together and “act my age” but that’s all I’m doing, really. Acting.
But you know what? I think that’s what we’re all doing. We’re all staring at the grown up in the
mirror in disbelief, because – if we’re living right, anyway – we’re all still
kids inside.
The way we see each other is all relative, I guess. My children will probably always see me just
as I am today, just like I will always view my own mother as the young woman
who took us on adventures and could solve any problem. When I’m with my siblings, I will always be
the little sister who just wants to hang out with them. When I’m with old friends, I am 21 and silly. Mick Jagger will always be a young man and
CDs will always be new technology.
So when I stumbled upon these beautiful photos of seasoned
humans looking at their younger selves, I thought – once again – of my
grandparents. Fairly recently, I had the
opportunity to see photos of them when they were very young. Playing with their siblings. Before they grew this family. Young Josephine and Young Alvin, smiling,
laughing, being jubilant. In their time,
they saw amazing changes in the world.
Starting with electricity and indoor plumbing, world wars, women’s
rights, civil rights, television, computers, internet, advancements in science
and medicine that they never could have dreamed of in their youth. I’ve always wondered, when Grandma was 80,
90, or even 99 1/2, how did she see herself?
Now at 100, Grandpa doesn’t remember my name. But ask him about the World’s Fair in 1934,
his eyes light up and stories flow. In
his heart and head, is he 21?
I hope so. And I hope
that for all of us. May we always
remember how to play, how to imagine, how to laugh, and how to dream about the
future. May my mother always be a dancer with a
rebellious streak, may my brothers always be rock stars, and may we never again
feel the need to act our age.
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