|teenaged gorilla deep in thought|
I asked my husband about it, and he said, "I still think I'm about 28." (He's not.)
28 feels about right to me too, because it was a magical age when I could still be considered a young adult, yet have the privileges that come with adulthood, and none of the responsibilities like parenthood or mortgages.
Usually I'm OK with aging - with welcoming a new age while mourning what's lost. I see this in the way I look at my own kids - I miss their young years, but I love where they're at now, and I'm excited about what's to come. I hope to live into and embrace whatever age I am - to see its potential gifts instead of yearning for the past.
My husband once heard a speaker talk about the way that we interact with babies compared to the way we interact with youth. When a baby is in the room, people smile, talk in engaging (sometimes highpitched) ways, and interact physically by holding, rocking, cuddling. Adults make direct eye contact, try to make that baby laugh, and meet that baby's needs in whatever ways possible.
With youth, it's not quite the same. What if we approached all children and youth with the same kind of enthusiasm, love, and engagement we bring to a baby? What if our eyes lit up, our arms went out, and we showered love and attention no matter what the age?
What if we could all treasure the unique age and stage we're at?
It's not every day that I cheer when I see a little grey hair poking through my dark locks. Actually, it's not any day.
When I went with my grandparents to see the senior's residence they'd be moving into, I cried. Because everywhere I looked, I saw old people. And I knew that my grandparents weren't old, even though they were in their 80s/90s. In fact, they weren't really any age to me; they were just Grandma and Grandpa, with an age that never went up and was filled with warmth and love.
And I guess that's how I'd like to be seen - as someone who grows in love, and who treasures life no matter what the stage/age.
|not afraid to show wrinkles|