My Birthday Month Age is Just a Number

My Birthday Month

Age is Just a Number

            I will be forty-one this Thursday. That number doesn’t bother me. I’m okay with being in my forties. I have never really had a problem with getting older. I have only been twenty-nine once. I have never seen the need to stay that age. I’m happy to grow older. Maybe there are a couple of reasons for that??

            I think the biggest reason age doesn’t bother me is, that is just my mentality. At one point growing up, my Pampa and I had a conversation. It went something like…

                        “I’m – (insert an age here). I’m an old man, K.”

                        “No, Pampa, you aren’t old.”

            Granted that’s a summarization of a conversation from long ago, but my Pampa and I would repeat that conversation several times from then until he passed away. Each time I would answer with “No, Pampa, you aren’t old yet.”

            I don’t know why I answered that way. Probably because I didn’t want my grandfather to think of himself as old. However, as I have gotten older, I haven’t yet met a number that scares me. I have embraced each new age.

            A couple of other reasons I feel this way could be I married a man six years older than me. Most of the people I know and get along with are older than me. So, maybe in my relating better to them, I don’t feel my age.

            Also, I have a twenty-year old daughter and a nineteen-year old son. I know big deal right?! Well, most of the time when people find out the ages of my children, they are shocked because most people who meet me don’t believe I’m already in my forties. I guess I’m growing older gracefully.

            I won’t lie, people thinking I’m younger than I am is a nice compliment. I do tell people my age though. I really don’t have a problem with the fact that I’ll be forty-one on Thursday.

            It really is just a number!!