My husband and I both engaged in risky behavior when we were young: speeding cars, speeding jets, speeding boats, etc. We liked to go fast. We also did not think we'd live to be over thirty (that was old!) and we didn't plan for living long and well. Short lives but happy was practically our motto.
So now he is seventy and I'm getting there, and we really are quite perplexed to discover grey hair and wrinkles in the mirror. How did this happen to us? One day at a time, I suppose, but still, we aren't any older in our hearts.
Perspective changes though. On Monday at the periodontist, the hygienist, who I had assumed was newly out of high school and no more than twenty years old, told the dentist he just turned thirty. I nearly choked. Not only do I feel as if I'm walking around in a weird disguise like an 'old person', but really old people like thirty-year- olds are disguising themselves as high school kids. This just is not acceptable. I'm going to get out my belly-dance CD before I start really believing I'm as old as I look.