Ordering drinks at the bar, we stood sandwiched in between people chatting over their beverages. We stood awhile before the young, good looking bartender could reach us. He smiled, took the order and then asked Melissa, "Can I see your ID, please?"
She produced it and he thanked her. He laughed when I said, "Wait, you didn't ask me for mine!" Looking at me, I swear I detected a slight glint of pity, "That's all right, no need!" Sigh.
Melissa is short, compact, curvy, adorable. She's also 30! But, she still gets carded pretty regularly if she's not in any of her usual haunts where the barkeeps know her. As for me, well, let's just say the last time I was carded, the bartender did it as a favor when I said it was my birthday!
Technically, they're not wrong when they pass me over to be carded; I am now, obviously, a woman of a certain age. But, if the law required carding emotional and mental states instead of cronological age, I'd still be legal to drink, although not by much. Because in my world, where I live all the time and the sky is always sunny...in Holly World, I'm perpetually 28 years old.
I'm not certain how I got stuck at 28. I can't recall anything absolutely monumental that blazed that age into my psyche. I simply know that I'm 28. No matter how the mirror attempts to prove otherwise.
While we were with Evan, we adopted one of his Wingmen, Daniel. His family couldn't make it to graduation. We had more than enough love and pride to share, so he became part of Frock Nation. Soft spoken, sweet and funny, throughout the few days he shared bits of his life and his hopes and dreams.
On our last day together, he walked out of the shop were they take graduation photos saying, "Mrs. Frock, I need a mom's opinion, if you don't mind." We went back so I could look at the proofs and help him pick one to send to his mom. He gave one to us with a note of thanks on the back for being his 'family' at this important time. Later, he and I shared a private moment when I said, "Daniel, I'm going to talk with you like a mom, if you'll allow me," to which he readily said, "I wish you would, ma'am."
As a preamble, I told him that he might be surprised to hear that I could absolutely relate to him because, while he looks at me and sees a woman who's miles down the road from him, in my head I was only a few years older than he is now. He smiled at that. Said, "I think I understand, Ma'am."
Maybe it's a good thing...this split age of mine. Perhaps it is what helps me to relate to others who are younger. Helps me to be patient with those who are older since I'm now sensitive to my own aging process. Keeps me curious about life. Makes me quest for the next missing piece. Even though I am saddened at times when I feel my body aging and I see my hair now silver. I feel like what people see is not the truth of me. That person is inside, hidden. My little secret. Only to be revealed if you take the time to know me.
There's no moral to this entry...more my musings on the curious course of life. How we can be so different inside from what our outside might lead one to believe. I suppose it might be something for younger people to ponder...the notion that common ground is there between generations. The common ground of Human experience is much greater than the dividing point of physical age.
I hope I am always willing to meet and be met on the common ground.
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
She produced it and he thanked her. He laughed when I said, "Wait, you didn't ask me for mine!" Looking at me, I swear I detected a slight glint of pity, "That's all right, no need!" Sigh.
Melissa is short, compact, curvy, adorable. She's also 30! But, she still gets carded pretty regularly if she's not in any of her usual haunts where the barkeeps know her. As for me, well, let's just say the last time I was carded, the bartender did it as a favor when I said it was my birthday!
Technically, they're not wrong when they pass me over to be carded; I am now, obviously, a woman of a certain age. But, if the law required carding emotional and mental states instead of cronological age, I'd still be legal to drink, although not by much. Because in my world, where I live all the time and the sky is always sunny...in Holly World, I'm perpetually 28 years old.
I'm not certain how I got stuck at 28. I can't recall anything absolutely monumental that blazed that age into my psyche. I simply know that I'm 28. No matter how the mirror attempts to prove otherwise.
While we were with Evan, we adopted one of his Wingmen, Daniel. His family couldn't make it to graduation. We had more than enough love and pride to share, so he became part of Frock Nation. Soft spoken, sweet and funny, throughout the few days he shared bits of his life and his hopes and dreams.
On our last day together, he walked out of the shop were they take graduation photos saying, "Mrs. Frock, I need a mom's opinion, if you don't mind." We went back so I could look at the proofs and help him pick one to send to his mom. He gave one to us with a note of thanks on the back for being his 'family' at this important time. Later, he and I shared a private moment when I said, "Daniel, I'm going to talk with you like a mom, if you'll allow me," to which he readily said, "I wish you would, ma'am."
As a preamble, I told him that he might be surprised to hear that I could absolutely relate to him because, while he looks at me and sees a woman who's miles down the road from him, in my head I was only a few years older than he is now. He smiled at that. Said, "I think I understand, Ma'am."
Maybe it's a good thing...this split age of mine. Perhaps it is what helps me to relate to others who are younger. Helps me to be patient with those who are older since I'm now sensitive to my own aging process. Keeps me curious about life. Makes me quest for the next missing piece. Even though I am saddened at times when I feel my body aging and I see my hair now silver. I feel like what people see is not the truth of me. That person is inside, hidden. My little secret. Only to be revealed if you take the time to know me.
There's no moral to this entry...more my musings on the curious course of life. How we can be so different inside from what our outside might lead one to believe. I suppose it might be something for younger people to ponder...the notion that common ground is there between generations. The common ground of Human experience is much greater than the dividing point of physical age.
I hope I am always willing to meet and be met on the common ground.
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
4 comments:
Holly -- what a rich post ... very timely as I'm going to visit "D" tonight. He's the 19 year old son of a good friend of mine, who was the victim of a drive-by shooting (mistaken identity, wrong place/wrong time scenario). He spent 3 months in the hospital being patched together, going out on us 3 different times but they brought him back each time!! He's now missing a kidney, most of his liver, and has a stitched-together colon ... anyway, I can't wait to see him back in his environs, hopefully with some SASS again.
I'm way slow on the uptake, having seen the word on numerous blogs in the last half year, but what DOES 'Namaste' mean?
Oooh, I like the meaning. The first time I ever encountered the word was as the name of a friend's newborn daughter. How gorgeous!
Oh! here's my email address, woman: feel free to use it!
antoniafufu@yahoo.com
p.s. If that is your hubby in your blog photo, I can't believe how much he looks like my work buddy, Greg! holy twins in different states!
Holly's blog gotta makeover!!! whoo hoo, lookin' GOOOOOD! Veronica is a whiz, true story.
I love this blog and you do have that ability to relate with everyone on every level. I would never consider you as a "women of a certain age." You're young in mind and spirit and it's awesome.
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