It’s a weird feeling getting old. Sometimes I forget. Then I look in the mirror.

But honestly I’m more than middle age. Way past the halfway mark. To a 30-year old, 58 is hella old.

It still surprises me sometimes, all those wrinkles, all that gray. Or I get that twinge in my back if I stand or sit too long. I tell people I feel like a very poorly maintained 30 year old.

Because it’s kind of true. I know I’ve changed, but I feel like the same old me. I see 30-somethings and think of them as peers. We’re both “middle aged.” But honestly I’m more than middle age. Way past the halfway mark. To a 30-year old, 58 is old.

Makes me laugh sometimes to think some of these “peers” may see the gray in my beard and think I’m some kind of elder statesman, and have some kind of wisdom. They look at me like the old oak tree and think, “You’ve seen so much history! How does it all work oh wise one?”

Actually, I’m sure they’re not thinking that. Which is good, because I have no idea! You’d think I would have by now. I have seen a lot of history.

But no. I haven’t figured out a damn thing. I thought I had the world figured out a few times and then, YANK! The the world pulled the rug out from under me. Everything I “know” about the world is provisional. If I know anything for sure these days it’s that the truth is slippery.

It’s like the feeling I had when I realized how my parents must have felt when I was a kid. Like holy crap! They were totally flying by the seat of their pants!

I remember when I turned 33, I wrote one of those reflection columns, about where I was in life now that I was middle aged. You know the age, where you figure out some of the things you might have done, you’re not going to live long enough to do? It’s a sobering thought when you first have it.

Then at least 15 years, living in denial, pretending you’re still young-ISH. You could still date those young honeys if you wanted to. But eventally you have to admit it. No, I’m old. Just let the hair go gray and fall out. Admit it.

Being old has its perks though. Knowing I won’t live long enough to do all those maybes, frees me up to work harder on the things I can still do. Plus it’s a relief not having to keep up with who’s famous any more, or listen to the pop of the day. I like some recent stuff, but I get to be choosy.

Of course I a scientist could turn me back into a 33-year old, I’d be ecstatic. I’d want to take my wife with me of course, but that would be awesome. Think of all the mistakes I wouldn’t have made if I knew what I know now…

But sometimes, when I jump out of bed like a 33 year old and my 58 year old feet hit the floor, I know being old can be a bitch. Hopefully I’ll still be around at 68, writing about how 58-year-old me had nothing to complain about.

#aging, #life, #mortality