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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