Chronicles of Chaos
When I’m 54
Amelia asked me how old I’ll be when Oliver graduates from high school. Fifty-four is the answer. It doesn’t feel old as much as it feels different. Or unknown.
What will I be like at fifty-four?
Then it hit me that Oliver will know me better as this woman in my fifties than the person I am right now. To him, the me I know will be that fresh faced woman in old photographs holding him through his gurgly years.
Whereas to me, who I am now is who I’ll always be–which of course is true, though I won’t look the same. And by then I may fall passionately in love with…I don’t know, golf?
I will have friends that I haven’t met yet and be shaped by things that I haven’t done.
With my own parents, I took a snapshot of them back when I was in high school and that’s my benchmark–for their aging, their personality changes, their new hobbies.
I’m not depressed by these thoughts, it’s more like a funky time machine. With someone else at the switch.
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