I never thought about it happening on a play date. My new-found friend and I had spent a delightful day making bread, mixing soup and baking cookies. While the kids played happily, we talked about art, literature, church, friends and living providently while we swapped funny stories and checked on the kids. We talked about our families. Genetic traits. Birth order. Age.
We were sitting on my friend’s playroom floor picking up toys while our boys played together; her second son, my last, when I noticed the briefest of pauses. She said “You’re 44?” And like a jolt it occurred to me that a twelve year age difference could be a big deal.
With her, I knew it wasn’t. She said (in a way that made me feel like an icon) “I hope I look like you when I’m 44.” So what if I felt a little older. My outer shell was creeping past my inner self. The realization hit, and it sat in my gut for a few days. But she had seemed surprised when she inquired, so maybe it wasn’t as blatant as I thought. Should I be making reservations with AARP or could I still feel comfortable with friends more than a decade younger than me? She said she wanted to use me as a leg model in her newest series of paintings. I made a sarcastic remark about middle aged legs, but I felt hope.
I have often thought about what age people are on the inside. I’ve talked about it, blogged about it and wondered if aging really matters. I have a good friend near 80 who drives herself across country twice a year. She loves the freedom, the scenery, her music and being able to really enjoy the journey. I think of her, and strive to enjoy my journey now. She is the best at finding really cool places to visit. She’ll tell me, with a sparkle in her eye that she wants to take me on a field trip. When I’m with her, she makes me feel like the most important person in her life. I know I’m not, but I love her gift of making people feel of worth. I wish she lived closer.
As I reflect on my friendships, whether I’m the older or younger in the pairing, I wonder if I make the other person feel as important, or if I’m still leeching because I need to feel validation.
Growing up I felt worlds apart in age from my parents. They were too old to be in touch with my generation. I remember staring at my mom’s hands in church and thinking they looked so old. I love that memory now because I know what I saw was evidence of years of hard work.
When my own daughter rubs my softer, wrinkling skin in church I feel contentment and don’t worry that she finds my older skin strange or unattractive. She also takes pleasure in plucking the gray hairs from my head. I tease her and tell her I’ve earned them. I want her to know that I’m okay with aging physically, but I long to make her understand that my inner self isn’t too far removed to be able to relate to where she’s at in life.
I love that the relationship with my parents has morphed into more of a feeling of being on the same team. We’re working towards the same goal, and they’ve had a few years to gain some valuable experience and important resources I can draw from.
So here’s the thing: I can hang out with my 80 year old friend and feel like her peer, and I can spend the day with my 32 year old friend and see no age discrepancy. When my husband tells me I’m exhibiting a trait that reminds him of my mother, I tip my head back and smile. Inside I’m laughing. A blip in time makes a difference. I like who I am despite the fact that the inside doesn’t always match what’s on the outside.
I’m planning on living a long and happy life. I hope I can make people feel of value along the way. So bring it on, aging crust! The soft bread-y part of me will probably never mature much past 34.
Does age affect how you think about or act around people? Do you act differently to accommodate a more mature or younger audience? Does feeling older than someone invoke negative emotion(now that you’re not a teenager)? How old are you on the inside?
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