I find as I grow older…as I watch the world unfold
despite losing hair and gaining wrinkles…I don’t often feel old.
Oh sure I know there were skills I had when I was young that I somehow today lack
and I’m not often sure when I look in the mirror who’s that old guy looking back
and sometimes that smile that occupies my face can turn into a frown
when I realize it’s much harder getting up from the floor…that it was getting down.
But for the most part I’m happy with my age, with who I am…where I’ve come from
and as long as I am feeling happy…I say let the aches and wrinkles come!
But the other day in the book store a thought occurred to me
that the young man I like to think I am is not the young man other people see.
A young family asked about our building
commenting on its beauty…remarking on it’s style
So I told them a little about it’s history
How it had been here for a while…
I told them there’s a plaque out front
to remind us of this building’s glory
on it is the original owner’s name
and a summary of it’s story
I told them it used to be a movie theater
In the 1920’s…way back when
It was here the youngest member of the family asked
“Were you working here back then?”
Everyone within earshot chuckled
(my laughter was more controlled)
as I wondered did she really think
I looked 100 years old?
I imagine children have a hard time determining age…
perhaps this is a skill they lack…
anyway….the next time someone asks about this building
I’ll just tell them…
read the plaque.
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