I wonder if any of you can relate to this.
I’m walking through one of those mega-store, super-centers earlier today. Looking at all the women pushing carts loaded down with kids, groceries, and other sundries. Poor women. I’m glad I’m not that old.
Then I look in my cart. One almost three year old little boy, with an almost six year old tagging along behind. Random cans of beans and fruit. Ohmigosh. I am that old! Yikes!
I perpetually think I’m another age than I am. As a kid, I never thought I’d reach that all powerful age of 16. Then I did. The moving target became 25. Once I’m 25 people will have to take me seriously. You see, I’ve usually been a bit young. Sixteen when I started college. Barely twenty when I graduated. Twenty-one when I got married. Etc. But now, I’m 32. I need to stop thinking of myself as some really young twenty-five year old. Maybe it’s time to enjoy being 32.
I tell the passage of time more by how big my kids and friends’ children are than the turning of calendar pages. My oldest niece turned ten last month. Now that’s a reality check!
Can anyone else relate? Or am I just a really weird person stuck in my own personal time warp?