Not with the first rush of feet-hit-the-floor pain when you get out of bed in the morning and certainly not when I realize those absent-minded, slowlane crawlers are my peers -- but in many circumstances, aging rocks.
While marketing emphasis is on all the falls away with time, not enough attention is given to those things that accumulate.
I sat in a meeting this morning listening to presentation on a content delivery system, only to quickly realize that with the addition of some spiffy bells and whistles it was reinventing a wheel I had worked on a dozen years ago.
The subsequent group discussion was extremely familiar. I knew which issues were real concerns and which just seemed like it. Been there, done that - and have the tools to make informed choices.
New friends are exciting, old friends are treasures. Those who know your journey and have been fellow travellers share a depth and richness you don't know exists until it's there for you one day.
When my older daughter calls from Houston, she shares the newness, challenge and excitement of her career, her romance and a life that is still being formed. Her enthusiasm is infectious, yet I have no envy.
My paths are not yet ruts but comfortable furrows, tracks that help move things along in productive fashion. I don't stop to tilt at windmills or allow small issues to become overblown nearly as often.
It's my theory that the majority of us see ourselves in the mirror until our late 20s, then we simply freeze the frame and see that static image staring back at us regardless of what others may see. Call it a gentle coping mechanism, it gets us through.
There is nothing like having a two beautiful daughters in THEIR twenties to remind you how delusional you can be.
Yet I wouldn't trade their satin skin or bright eyes for my experience -- at home, at work and in places that matter only to me.
It seems the stronger the prescription required by my glasses, the more clearly I can see without them.




Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs