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05.04.05 02:21 AM

old age is creeping up

I suppose it first dawned on me when my niece turned 15 in March. Now my height, or maybe a half-an-inch taller, she is a woman child and I can no longer lift her up and swing her around my back. I can no longer bend down on my knees and roll around on the floor with her, or let her climb atop my back while I give her a horsey ride. No longer can I call her by the various childhood nicknames I created for her, because she has crafted her very own. Names like bxgurl and ricanshawty, though she is from from being a rican of any kind. She is getting older and establishing her own identity in her own way. And, sheesh, I guess I'm getting older too. Though I dare not mention the year she was born, because it was the year I was granted my B.A. after transferring to my third college and switching to my fourth major. Mind you the first three all focused on computers and business, but it was that final one that sent me on a path of journalism.

But, yeah, try to change the subject and forget that I already told you her age and — this is not about my career, or even my niece, it's about my realizing that age is creeping up. My first grey hairs didn't impact this realization, for they spiked their stiff strands up through my scalp early on. There weren't a lot of signs or warnings actually, at least not until very recently.

Perhaps I started feeling it when my body's frame slightly widened and expanded and skipping a few meals had little to no effect on shaping it all back into place. I grew from childhood into adulthood as one of those in the cadre that comic Monique likes to call skinny bitches. But even these women have to work out a little harder when they start to get older. I ought to know.

I'm certain that my father's final living sibling passing away two weeks ago may have affected my preoccupation with aging. I know it reminded me of my mortality and that life is about living, and not always about doing.

Doing is not always living, is it?

Though to be quite honest, it wasn't even my niece's recent birthday, physical changes, marriages, deaths, and/or births surrounding me that brought me to this melancholy place. It was an email, from a high school buddy, who I became reacquainted with as an adult, that sent me reeling. The email said, "It seems they're putting together our high school reunion. Are you going?" And that's when it hit. It's been a long, long time since I graduated high school. And much like my undergraduate graduation date, I'm not going to be candid with the details, yet at this point I know that you're no fool and an estimation has already made it's way across your cerebral cortex.

I had a flash back to when I completed my MBA, and my mother happened to look at my resume and announced, "Wow, my baby sure has done a lot!" "Yeah, I suppose," I replied. What I was actually thinking was, "Well I hope I have, because I'm no longer your baby, but a grown ass woman and I better have done a few things with all this time."

A grown ass woman. That I am. A very grown woman, who probably has yet to do all the things she's wanted to do career or otherwise.

So I'm contemplating attending that reunion, though I'm not in touch with many folks from my senior year. Though over the years, I've run into them here and there. Which reminds me, that perhaps since I'm getting older, maybe I ought to stop being such a damn recluse.

---
And after posting this entry I take this quiz "What Age Do You Act?" that I picked up from Stephanie, and scoring somewhere within the range of my age I'm assured that as young in spirit as I may think I am, true adulthood has finally set in.

posted by lynne | link to this |