Hello again, beautiful people!
This is one of those “don’t try this at home” stories. And by home, I mean out in public.
Let’s begin by talking about a Universal Law. So universal in fact, that it makes The Secret look like a pansy. Here it is:
No matter how old you look on the outside, your youthful, silly self is still in there.
What does that mean exactly? Pull up a chair as I explain.
All mirrors aside, there’s a stillness that exists inside all of us that will never age. Looking out from the inside, 5-year-old you is still in there; it’s the same you with that natural curiosity, awe, and wonder.
Regardless of how old you are today, whether you’re thinking back to 15-year-old you or 35-year-old you, the same things continue to make your heart skip a beat: music … the perfect shade of deep red … Robert Redford … sunflowers … the smell of freshly cut grass … the sound of the ocean as waves lap at your feet … binge-watching true crime shows about serial killers … (That last one may just be me.)
And you still have big plans for yourself, like letting your hair grow long so that you can look like Raquel Welch in the 1966 movie, One Million Years B.C. (Oops. Just me again.)
My point is that even though the essence of who we are develops over time with experience and possibly even wisdom, our core remains our youthful selves. The way we giggle. The way we look into an animal’s eyes and feel poetry. The way we still believe in the magic of tomorrows … On some days, we even FORGET that we’re not 20 anymore.
Side note: If I ever start looking like the old lady with long hair, you have permission to tell me. And feel free to use the words: Yo! You’re starting to look like THAT lady. (I’ll know what you mean.)
So even though we don’t FEEL our age, every once in a while, we’ll be in public and inadvertently slip up by telling the entire world just how old we really are. This is when our own illusion of timeless endurance comes crashing down like a broken mirror crudely dropping shards of truth.
This is exactly what happened to me recently when I walked into the wine store near my house and asked the young girl behind the cash register a question that made her stare at me with suspicious eyebrows.
“Where can I find your Joan Crawford?”
Naturally, I did what any customer would do when answered with silence. I stared back at her. I didn’t understand her confusion. Finally, I broke the muted silence with another question.
“Don’t you work here?”
And then it dawned on me. Ooooooh …
“KIM Crawford. Where can I find your KIM Crawford?”
I’m thinking I’ll find this funny after a glass of
Joan … Kim’s sauvignon blanc.
Meanwhile, I need to find a new wine store because I CAN NEVER GO BACK THERE AGAIN.
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