Hey there, awesome readers!
Do you remember being young and thinking you would always be young?
PS. If you are young, I invite you to go ahead and skip this post. It may be a little ahead of your time.
Despite being wrong about the “I’ll always be young” part, I’ve been pretty lucky in the aging department. Oh sure there’s a visually-impaired difference between younger-me and now-me but everything still works the same – which is more important in a non-vain kinda way. Also, I’m not shopping for a walk-in bathtub just yet. (Always a good sign.)
And then last weekend happened.
I was playing cards with some friends and noticed that I couldn’t see the cards in the middle of the table that well. Pronounced: COMPLETE BLUR.
A three could have been a six or an eight. A nine could have been an eight or a two. A five could have been the letter “S”. It was annoying. Even opening my eyes wider and blinking didn’t help.
Aside from being the only reason why I didn’t win, it made me realize just how much we’re at the mercy of our birthdays.
Conclusion: Birthdays are what make us mortal. And not our inability to leap tall buildings.
I just posted about becoming old. Well, Older. Ma’am material. Argh