In my head I am still young and energetic and beautiful. Now again when I catch a reflection of myself I am literally startled for a moment. I wonder who the older woman staring at me is. There is often a disconnect between the reality of our aging process and the way we feel inside. 

I was recently in a bookstore waiting to checkout. A little boy was ahead of me with his father. I noticed him immediately because he seemed to be unable to stop squirming. He even lay down on the floor and began to roll around. Suddenly he popped up and asked his father, “Have you completed your purchase yet?” 

I was impressed with his rather advanced vocabulary and manner of speaking so I suppose I may have stared at him a bit too long. The teacher in me was fascinated and wondering who this youngster was when he moved toward me and stood directly in front of me. “I greatly respect elderly people even if they are weird,” he declared as though announcing something very important. 

I had one of those moments when my brain told me that this child could not possibly be thinking that I was either elderly or weird but then reality set in as I noticed him looking me straight in the eyes as though he was challenging me to respond to his statement. I quickly gathered my thoughts and simply echoed his thoughts by saying, “I greatly respect young people as well.”

The boy seemed taken aback by my response as though he had been expecting me to react differently. He waited for me to say something more, so I simply asked if he thought I was weird. My omission to his reference of being elderly seemed to satisfy the young man. He knew that I was admitting to the truth that I am an older person. After all, I will soon be seventy six years old and by any standard that age places me in the ranks of senior citizens. With a grin he threw me a bone by insisting that he did not think that I was weird. “I was only telling you that I am a respectful person.” he concluded. That was the end of our conversation but his comments stayed with me. 

I suppose that I like to think that I still look somewhat young for my age. It is a matter of silly vanity on my part even as I know where my wrinkles reside and how grey my hair might be without the color that my hairdresser uses to disguise the signs of aging. Just because I feel young at heart and strong as a lion does not mean that others see me that way. 

I have to laugh at myself because people more often than ever before open doors for me, offer seats, ask if I need help carrying out my groceries. I know that they are not trying to insult me but rather to be kind and helpful. All of which makes me laugh at the idea that for a time we had two men who are even older than I am running for President of the United States. They both have made attempts to insure the nation that they are still young at heart but their ages are showing in multiple ways just as mine must be obvious to everyone who encounters me. 

My grandfather was an interesting character because he lived to be one hundred eight years old but he actually embraced his age. He let his head go bald and put his feet in orthopedic shoes. He made jokes about his dentures and stopped driving at the age of ninety out of an understanding that everyone would be safer if he stayed off of the road. He remained energetic and actively kept up the home where he lived but he never once pretended to be younger than he was. In fact, he seemed to revel in growing older and being honored for his wisdom which was the product of years of experiences. 

I heard a famous actress talking about the time when she totally understood that she was an older woman and that her roles as an actress would drastically change. She admitted to going through a brief time of grief over the loss of her youth, but then she realized that there was a different kind of beauty in accepting her wrinkles and white hair as just another stage of life. She pointed out how some older people have a glow that emanates from their inner confidence and freedom of worry about superficial things. She has found a better part of herself that does not require her to be superficially attractive. Now her beauty comes from loving herself as she is. 

I suppose that the little boy in the bookstore was a kind of gift for me. He reminded me that I have passed into another era that can be as lovely and exciting as my younger years if I handle it well like my grandfather did. I have reached a time for just enjoying each day to the fullest as a great gift. I really have nothing more to prove about myself, especially when it comes to my appearance. The wrinkles will continue to grow and I can let my hair be natural or color it red if I am so inclined. The circumference of my waist can increase and nobody will care. My hands can look old and worn and they will only tell someone how hard I have worked. I have no idea how much more time I have on this earth so my only job now is to seize each moment and laugh with the little boy who pointed out the obvious to me. I am elderly and maybe even a bit weird now and then but life is good!