Hey There, Sonny-Boy

You know you’re getting old(er) when:

young people on the bus offer you their seat . . . regularly

flesh jiggles and wiggles, no matter how much and often you work out

that perpetual deep-in-thought groove between the eyebrows is now just one perpetual deep groove

you wonder how young people can like, much less listen to, today’s music

the first and foremost reason for racing into the bathroom when you get up is not to apply make-up, but to use the bathroom

you’ve reversed roles with mom/dad

you start thinking about daily fiber intake

you consider your calorie consumption . . . and suck those nasty buggers all back, anyway

the word “mortality” is now in your dictionary

retirement is not just something senior personnel talk about; it’s a [close-in-time] reality

you’re thinking gray’s not that bad a color, re-eally.

It’s a long road, and yeah, it sucks to see those annoying wrinkles and crinkles, but at the end of the day, it’s all good.  I’m proud of the wisdom and maturity gained, and the lessons learned. 

Of course I’d change actions and attitudes if I could go back in time (that hindsight thingy).   And yes, there are things about me I’d love to transform (like those wrinkles and crinkles), but in the grand scheme of things, my friends: I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s.