I went to the library a few weeks ago. Shocking I know, but sometimes I actually have to go to the library live and in person not just online. Anyway, when I got to the counter to check out my stack of books, the librarian told me that she needed some information to update my library card.
I gave her my address and phone number and then she sat for a minute scanning the other information on the computer screen while I waited patiently. Handing my library card back to me, she cheerily announced, “We were both born in 74.”
“Really?” I said smiling back at her, but I was sinking inside. Here was a woman that I would’ve assumed was older than me, a woman that I might have referred to as ma’am, telling me that we are the same age. I’m a ma’am too. When did this happen?
She must be older than me. She must’ve have been born in January, I thought. “When’s your birthday?” I asked.
When she told me it was in September I almost fainted. She was younger than me. It’s true, I thought, I am a ma’am.
Overwhelmed by the knowledge that I wasn’t 21 anymore, I drove home in a daze. As soon as I walked through the door I asked my husband, “I don’t look as old as you, do I?”
That question isn’t as bad as it seems. You see, my husband is 9 years my senior even though some people don’t believe it. I don’t know if those people are complimenting him or insulting me.
“I should hope not since you are younger,” he said.
“You didn’t answer my question. Do I look like I’m as old as you?” I pressed knowing what he would say if he wanted me to cook dinner that evening.
“Of course not. You look the same as you always have.”
Satisfied, I smiled and refrained from examining the wrinkles around my eyes in the bathroom mirror. That wouldn’t solve anything anyway. Memorizing the lines on my face will not make me look any younger. The only possible way to keep my head buried in the sands of eternal youth is to avoid going to the library. I’m not sure how I’m going to return this stack of library books though.
Photo by twechy