One of the young women at the conference sat down at the table with me the other day to eat. She had met Daughter, and so she asked me if Daughter was my granddaughter. I told her she was my daughter. She then told me Daughter is beautiful and I thanked her. I got to wondering—do I look that old? While I am old enough to be a grandmother, I’m not old enough to have a grandchild who is 21.
Maybe I should consider coloring my gray hair, though I consider it a badge of honor. I’ve earned every one of those gray hairs. Tonight I actually feel like I’m old enough to be Daughter’s grandmother. Walking around the lake and dealing with all of the steps reminded me that I need to get back to regular exercise. I could use her comment to motivate me to get back in shape. Maybe I’ll just figure it’s the ignorance of youth, where everyone over 40 is considered old, and distinctions are lost.
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