Another day older and deeper in debt

Okay, not really deeper in debt, but I am another day older. And officially, another year older. Fifty-two. It sounds so old! But it doesn't feel old. Weird. I am supposed to be a grown-up by now, but I so don't feel like one a lot of the time. I feel like the college version of me is trapped inside this aging body. Actually, since this version of college me has 32 years more experience, I hopefully wouldn't make a lot of the same, dumb decisions the original version made. Hopefully. It really is like the song says; "I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." But the fact of the matter is, and I know all of my fellow "grown-ups" know what I mean, I still feel like that 20 year-old kid in my head. It doesn't seem like that long ago that I was living in Santa Barbara, going to UCSB, and making plans for the future. Where did 32 years go? One of The Spouse's favorite movies is Meet Joe Black. (Yeah, he's really a softie.) He loves Anthony Hopkins (who doesn't?). Anyway, when Anthony Hopkins is giving his speech at his retirement party he says, "65 years. Don't they go by in a blink?" Truer words were never spoken.

I was reading Lorraine's post about how meeting one person in your life who can set you on a course you may never have followed had you not met them. It got me thinking. I'll bet we all have a person like that in our lives. Maybe several. What it made me think of most, though, was my best friend in high school. She graduated early, got married, had a kid, and we lost touch. When my 30 year reunion rolled around in 2002, and I heard she'd be there, she was the only one I really cared about seeing. When I saw her standing in line for food the second night of the reunion, I knew her instantly. She looked exactly the same - same hair, same figure, same smile. She didn't recognize me right away; it took her about 30 seconds to realize it was me. No glasses, not quite so dorky, and definitely not as skinny as I used to be. But as soon as she knew it was me, and we started talking, it was as though the 30 years we'd been apart didn't exist, and we were back in high school again. She kept saying, "gosh, it's you!" and I knew exactly what she meant. Unfortunately, like Lorraine and her friend Muffin, though we started out keeping in touch, she stopped replying to emails, didn't call, and the contact ended. It's hard to maintain a friendship when you're 1500 miles apart, and your lives are so different. But for a couple of days, I didn't feel 47. I felt 17 again. I could have run off to Avila Beach to bake in the sun with Marsha, just like we'd done dozens of times so many summers ago, talking about boys, classes, teachers, and parents, plans for college, plans for life. Instead, we talked about children, spouses, former spouses, paths taken and not taken, jobs, parents, and the past. When we were 17, we had no past to talk about. At 47, we had lots of past to talk about, At 52, I have even more. And I guess that's what birthdays are about - looking back for a bit, assessing our lives, reviewing lessons learned, remembering precious moments and people, and then looking ahead, to all that awaits. I don't necessarily wish I was 20 again, though I'd love the body I had when I was 20. This one is getting kind of worn out. But I do wish I could talk to that 20 year-old me, tell her some stuff I've learned, tell her to finish college, tell her to make the most of every minute. I'm not sure she'd listen, though. What 20 year-old does? Instead, I'll make sure that 52 year-old me knows that stuff, takes it to heart, and makes the most of every minute of every day, at least as often as possible. That's my birthday present to me.

Happy birthday to me.