“Some things are more precious because they don’t last long.”
― Oscar Wilde
When I was in my 20’s I knew exactly what I looked like to people around me.
I knew that i was relatively handsome, fit and young.
This was affirmed everywhere I went. I wasn’t deluded, unlike most people I know these days.
Then time passed – a lot of it, actually – and I no longer knew.
People started to see and interact with me differently…or not acknowledge me at all.
Some refer to this as invisibility, but I prefer other words that don’t provoke ego annihilation.
The weird thing about all this is that I still feel young. Or youngish.
My knees ache a little in the mornings, and my joints are tighter than at any time in memory.
But the truth is I don’t remember what 25 felt like, but I have to assume that no matter what it felt like was irrelevant in the scheme of things.
A childhood friend described a moment recently where he was strolling along the beach and a beautiful young woman passed him by without noticing him.
“I though she might at least glance over…”
“It wasn’t that long ago when we would both smile and maybe look back at one another, and everything would be exactly where it belonged.”
But there is no normal any more.
Getting older requires a constant re-acquaintance with oneself.
But this is easier said than done, particularly for people who spent their lives doing exactly what they wanted to do and remaining child-free.
And people wonder why big corporations want their employees married with children.