I recently made reference to the fact that I didn’t feel that old in comparison to the youth of today. I take it all back. Last night, we did in fact successfully manage to drive down to Colorado Springs and pick up Mike and Sarah from the end of the their band trip.
Rhiannon and I aren’t that far removed from our own high school days that we don’t still know some people. The band director is the same as when I started in fifth grade and one of the chaparones taught in the elementary when I was going through. I also recognized a few of the kids as younger family members of people Rhiannon or I graduated with.
While some of the people know who we are, there seems to be an ever increasing number of people who don’t. Mike has a girlfriend who also happens to be in band, so she was there as well. While we were grabbing his bags and instrument, she was standing nearby, so he introduced us and promptly left to go grab a suitcase from the storage under the bus. As we stood making the obligatory small talk, I realized that to her, we are “adults”.
We have full time jobs. We have a mortgage and the house that goes with it. We’re married and we contribute to retirement accounts. We have been able to vote and buy alcohol products longer than her age has had more than one digit. Buying alcohol is no longer exciting, and I can rent a car with no restrictions and my auto insurance rates are starting to drop.
And sometimes, when Rhiannon and I are feeling really wild and crazy on a Friday night, we have a glass of wine and stay up past 11. Once, last month, we stayed up until almost midnight both Friday and Saturday. Of course, on Sunday, I was kicking myself for not getting up and mowing the lawn and washing the car early in the day like I intended, but I don’t think that really fits in with the rebellious image I’m trying to portray here.
The friends we hang out with or talk to are ones we’ve had since college. Our conversations probably deal more with world politics and vacation time, and we consume higher quality food and drink (and usually less on the drinking than may have occurred in the past). But it’s still the people we know from college days, so I’ve never felt like I had someone look at me as old.
Until last night. And I can’t blame her. When I person can round their age off to the nearest ten and it no longer starts with a two…
I put in the order for the rocking chair to go on the front porch this morning.
Express shipping and everything.
Sometimes, you just have to face the facts.