littleghettoblaster

I know I can’t get away with writing a post and not talking about my 2+ week absence (edit: Technically, I just posted. Before that… it was a little more than 2 weeks). Let’s just say this: I’ve been busy.

I sat outside of a coffee shop in Belltown the other morning. I was kind of recapping the month in my head. It kind of surprised me when I thought about all the grown-up-like stuff I’ve been up to, but I was sitting there in a familiar stance–in baggy jeans and a hoody, cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, notebook in front of me, sipping coffee–I felt like a teenager; like the first year of college when you had to write all the time because your head was spilling over with ideas and learning and newfound independence. It was kinda that, and mostly I thought I looked like a teenager. It took me back to a recent April Sunday in Redmond.

At H’s grandma’s, for Easter.

It was surprisingly comfortable and fun. Most of the guests ended up in the living room toward the end of the day, and we started talking about how old people feel. I don’t think a single person said they felt their own age–they all felt younger.

“I still feel like I’m in my early 30s,” H’s mom said. I believe her, she’s got an energy that does not seem like it could be over 50.

“I’d say 40s, for me,” H’s grandma said, a woman who’s in her late 70s, but you’d never guess it. I look around and see that the whole family looks younger than they are.

So maybe you really are only as old as you feel. And sometimes it shows.

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