Maturing

I have crossed a threshold.  I have arrived in a new era.  I have achieved a new season in my life.

“What can she possible mean?”

“She is too young for ‘the change.”

Well, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer…

Today, at the checkout of the grocery store, where I was purchasing just 3 last minute items for lunch, at 12:30 in the afternoon, the woman (I would normally call her “older,” meaning at least 60… although that is starting to not sound that old to me anymore!)… anyway, she asked me if “those were all my kids.”  (Nowadays, 3 kids seems like a lot to most people.  Still seems like a smallish family to me, coming from a family of 4 kids myself).

I replied, yes they are all my kids.  And she said, with her eyes bugging out of her head, “wow, I had you pegged for not much more than a teenager, yourself!”

And, Dear Reader, I must admit, that her reaction MADE MY DAY.  I called Rich at work, (he was out to lunch with a buddy) and told him.  And I, I shallowly admit to you,  am still riding off of the pleasure it gave me.  I am sure I have been nicer to my kids all day because of it.

So, I have finally arrived at the time I was told would come, when I would be very thankful for my youthful looks, and no longer annoyed or embarrassed when someone thinks me younger than my actual years.

Which means, I guess, that I am maturing?

Although, I suppose if how I look, or how it is perceived I look, can have that big an impact on me, perhaps “mature” is not quite the right word?