The other day I was at my writing group with my friends.  We meet once a month at the local Panera Bread, and eat sweets and drink coffee and try to write our terrible novels.

This particular night, as I sat with my usual group of very young people (they are mostly in their early 20’s), I realized the group next to us was way more interesting to me than the young people I was surrounded by.  It was a group of six mature ladies, talking about the things they talk about – their lazy husbands, dental problems, how good the tomato soup is, and sharing around a tin of mints.  I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, and at one point, against the rules of eavesdropping, I interjected my own advice into their conversation.

Oh. My.

I’m old.  When I had more in common with them and their conversation than I did with the young ones sitting next to me, I knew that I’d crossed that line somewhere.  I don’t remember crossing that line.  Maybe it wasn’t marked well enough for my failing eyes.  Those eyes that need reading glasses for everything these days.

I know I don’t necessarily look my age.  I always say fat hides wrinkles.  A also have plenty of friends who are my age or just younger and just older, and I think some of the ones just younger than me look older than me.  Hard living, or genetics, or whatever.  I am blessed to look younger, I suppose.  And I can’t always act my age; I’m a mom of a school-age child. Tater will be ten soon.  I still have a long path of teacher’s meetings, PTA, field trips, and pediatrician trips ahead of me.  I have always wanted to make sure I didn’t look like Tater’s grandmother.  I do color my hair, but then again, I’m grayer than my own mother, so I have felt that it was necessary to keep up appearances in that regard.

I texted my mom about the ladies at the coffee shop, how they reminded me of her, and how I seemed to have more in common with them than I did with my young writer friends.  She reminded me that I am still her baby, and always will be.  Thank goodness someone has some decent perspective here.

I’m not old.  I’m still a baby.

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