On growing old

I had some thoughts today about growing old while racing through Costco. As I wound my way through the crowded aisles on a Friday morning, for awhile I was behind a "little old lady," who looked and walked just about like all little old ladies I have known in my life. I wondered at what point I will become the little old lady. What will that feel like? What will I look like? And, perhaps the best question of all, will I realize that I am old?

I joke all the time about how I am "getting old," and in many ways that is absolutely true. Without the intervention of my hairdresser, my hair would be about 70% grey. I have increasingly weird middle-aged-related health issues, including benign lumps called lipomas popping up on my arms and legs (so attractive). When I sit on the ground for extended periods of time, which I love to do, my joints all scream in protest when I finally stand. My eyes refuse to focus in dim light or when I am tired and then I require the help of my old lady reading glasses. So yes, I am feeling older in many respects.

But, at the same time, I feel suspended before the true advent of older age, because my body mostly does what I want it to. I can Zumba and walk as fast and as far as I want, and I can lift a decent amount of weight. My mind feels reasonably sharp, with the exception of a tendency to forget names sometimes (but then, I have never been very good at remembering names). I have enough energy to get up early with my daughter going to Seminary and stay up late to get my middle schooler settled down for bed.

Some of my friends are young moms, and I often feel like I have so much in common with them until I realize that my life looks totally different than theirs. In a way it feels like the days of babies waking throughout the night, toys underfoot, and the endless physical demands of early motherhood are just the other day. But in other ways that time seems a lifetime ago. Yesterday was my 3rd child's 17th birthday. 17! How could my little Aubrey-doodle already be a year away from college? Anyway, I am beginning to realize that my friends who are young moms see me as someone they enjoy and can talk to, but not someone in their same stage of life. They see me as an "older mom."

Although, I do feel like I have somewhat earned that moniker due to the fact that since my years as a teenager and then a young married/young mom I have successfully weathered many ups and downs. Some days I feel entirely battle weary and other days I feel wise, calm, and victorious. There is a lot of value in realizing that stages pass, difficult times end, and miraculous changes occur. For that, I am grateful, and I am happy to accept my achey joints and grey hairs as payment for this priceless understanding.

So, I feel planted solidly in a middle ground of not-young and not-old. It's truly not a bad place to be. But then, I really am not sure that I will realize that I have become old. Because in my mind's eye I am a lot younger than my chronological age. Often I am shocked by pictures of myself, because somehow my body is moving along in years while my spirit still feels settled at about age 35. I wonder if there will ever be a point when I feel as old as my birthdays? When I will be aware that I have become the sweet little old lady slowing down the traffic in the aisle of Costco?