Old Age Lurking Around Every Corner, Especially 60th and Park

Dear Nana,

Sorry it's been a few weeks since I've written, but with the Thanksgiving holidays and the whole family in town, I have not had a moment to sit down and write. Yet, today, as I was waiting to cross Park Avenue on 60th Street on my way to the 6 train, I overheard something that struck me and I just needed to share it with you.

As I waited for the light to turn red, a small group of teenagers walked up beside me. I caught the tail end of their conversation. One boy says to another, "I can't believe I'm gonna be 18, dude." He paused to contemplate his statement a moment. Then, "We're getting f***ing old, man."

Ha! I thought to myself. 18? Old? The light changed and I left them standing on the corner, smirking as I made my way across the Christmas lit avenue. How juvenile. How ridiculous, I thought. As if at 18, anyone can be considered old. And just as I was about to brush the comment from my mind, dismissing it as having about as much consequence as a single snowflake in an all-out blizzard, I stopped. Hmm. Actually . . . maybe they were right.

I mean, I know that 18 isn't old. And certainly, of all people, you know that 18 is nowhere near aged. But, at one time, for each of us, it was. And as I pondered this, I thought back to the time when I thought that 30 was old. That 25 was old. That how-can-I-possibly-be-18 time in my life. I even thought all the way back to the time when I was in 2nd grade, the age of my students now. I distinctly remember that Graham, who was in 4th grade at the time, seemed to tower over me with his wisdom and experience. He was in 4th grade! To me, at age 8, 4th graders were the pinnacle of coolness. No one could top their supremity in this arena. (Well, 5th graders probably could. And 6th graders. And 7th graders ... but I didn't know any at the time so 4th grade was my fantasy. My Mecca. When I get to 4th grade someday . . .)

But, isn't that what makes life so, well, liveable. Looking forward to that next phase and all that comes along with it? That feeling of "WOW" I can't believe I'm whatever age I am. How did this happen? And now what? Each new era brings with it new challenges, new excitements, new paths to cross and worlds to traverse emotionally, physically, even spiritually. And I think we say to ourselves "How can I possibly be this old?" with each new phase, because it's too hard to really take all that came before it, all the days and nights and hours and minutes of our personal experiences, and believe that all of those experiences have added up to Now. To this moment. To this age. It's just too hard to wrap it up and put a bow on it and think, well that's my life. That's what I've done, and now I'm 20 or 30 or, in your case, 90. It's easier to just say, man, I'm old. And when we say that, we don't really mean that we're old (okay maybe you did when you turned 90, cause, well, that just is) but we're saying instead, Look at me! Look where I've been and look where I am going. Look what I've done, or haven't done, or all the things I still want to do. Look at all of the choices I've made, the good and the bad. Look where all my roads have brought me. I can't believe I'm here!

You must have had the same conversation that the teenagers did countless times in your life. At 50. At 60, 70, 80, 90 and all those years in between. And so have I. I often find myself thinking, How can I possibly be 32 years old? But I'm sure I used to find myself thinking, How can I possibly be 26?

As I made my way to the 6 train tonight I wiped that smirk off my face. Teenagers aren't usually right. But that boy was. He was f***ing old. For him. And think about how many more times he'll get to say that over the years. And lucky for him, it just keeps getting better. Knock on wood.

Love, Katie