I Have Been Young And Now Am Old

Whenever my family meets a new group of people, we always enjoy the lets-guess-their-ages-and-try-to-remember-all-their-names game together. I think we enjoy it more than the new people do, though. After all, a seven-membered family doesn't come accross everyone's path every day. And people can be funny when they're trying to commit seven new names to memory at once. Fortunately for the general public, I answer to nearly any name that properly begins with a "kkk" sound....

As for ages...that's as good as old-time pin-the-tail-on-the donkey. Nine times out of ten, Abigail and Paul triumphantly take away the honors: people always think they are older than John and I, respectively. Remember, in a child's world, when people think you are older, you know they must think you are also more mature. Plus, it's the older child who deserves more privileges like, say, staying up until 8:30 p.m. Imagine what a blow to pride it is to think that anyone might think that your LITTLE sister gets to stay up until 8:30 p.m.

Trust me, I know. I didn't bid childhood goodbye very long ago.

Besides, most nights I go to bed by 10:00 p.m. Because I want to. But I still don't jump up and down when people think Paul is older. Because, being growed up and all, I always think mature thoughts like, "What a tragedy it would be if anyone thought that I was less mature than any of my siblings!"

I think I could get over it, though...if the age-guessing thing didn't get out of control sometimes. Most people think I'm around somehwere between sixteen and eighteen. Yesterday, someone actually guessed my age to be fifteen.

I know you're supposed to be flattered when people think you're younger than you are and everything. But when you're fifty and someone thinks you're forty-five....that's totally different than when you're in your twenties and someone thinks you're a child.

Looking closely in the mirror, I wonder what there is in my face that obliterates six years. The only thing I can find is acne.

I would claim credit for discovering the fountain of youth, but I am afraid no one will be impressed.

I am the only one impressed for I know that when I was fifteen my acne drove me to total despair. Now I rarely notice it particularly or think about it. But my change in perspective isn't found in the mirror.

Maturity, it seems, is not in the eye of the beholder.