I'm 38. I'm not old. But I'm getting there.
Every so often (and more and more often recently), something happens to me that reminds me that I'm no longer the kid that still lives inside me somewhere. On the inside, I am an amalgam of ages from my memory -- a young girl, a teen girl and a young woman. But in the mirror, my outsides show a different picture. When I look at myself closely, I see gray hairs, the starts of wrinkles and very, very tired eyes. And mentally, I am feeling older each day when my memory slips or I feel more and more out of touch with current-day fads (not that I've ever been very good at staying on top of the trends).
So I've decided that in honor of this aging process -- both good and not so good -- I'll try to post occasionally about these signs. Some of you might find them humorous and some of you might be able to relate -- but all of them will give you a little clearer picture about who I am and who I am becoming over time.
Besides, as often as my mind falters these days, it'll probably be good to document this stuff before I forget. I feel like I can joke about this because weakening minds does occur in our family. So while one of my biggest fears earlier in life was having a disease like Alzheimer's or dementia, I'm learning that these things are not all bad. I know God will provide if something like that comes to pass eventually.
I Think I'm Getting Old...
... because yesterday, I couldn't remember the word gazebo.
When I went to pick up my niece from preschool, I brought Z with me. As we walked through the school grounds, we passed through the courtyard and Z said, "Hey, Mom, there's one of those things ... a caboose!"
I laughed and said, "That's not a caboose. Cabooses are on trains."
He asked, "Well, then what is it?"
It was on the tip of my tongue, but for the life of me, my mouth and mind could not generate the correct response. I started laughing like an insane person because I was both bewildered and disturbed at my inability to recall the right word for it even though I know I've said the word at least a hundred times over the course of my lifetime.
It wasn't till I returned there to the school again today to retrieve my niece -- again, I brought Z -- that the word suddenly came to me as we passed through the courtyard. I shouted, "Gazebo!!" as we passed the structure.
Z said, "What?! Why did you say that?"
I explained that was the real name of it and he said, "Okay, I didn't think it was that important, but apparently, you are still thinking about it."
My brain may be slowing down, but for now, it's good to know it's still ticking.