This little gem came home with Marsh this week. My five year old thinks I am 17. God bless him. This week Levi and I have had discussion several times about our age....how it doesn't seem possible we are approaching our mid-thirties, how we have been together for (gasp) 12 YEARS, how the little lines on our faces seem to be sticking around lately (bothers Levi far more than myself) and that our little guy is headed into the world next fall....kindergarten.
The conversation began after Levi and Marsh were purusing an old photo album from our college days one night while I was at a meeting. Marshall didn't recognize me. He said my hair was down (translation: long) and I looked young. I don't think I look older...until I see photos. I'm okay with aging, I'm even okay with getting old. We have a delightful nearly-100 year old neighbor who adores life, but embraces the fact that her time is coming to a close on earth. Everytime I speak with her she makes me feel effervescent, as if I am the most special human on the planet, and that she appreciates that from me and for me. I hope I age that way...loving life and those around me so much that they can feel it palpably.
But hey, I don't need to worry yet....I'm only 17.
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