I'm Off the Train to Cool Town, and I Love It
I was at dinner a few weeks ago when the cold hand of approaching death smacked me in the face.
The blow came as I looked at a picture of my husband's friend, a guy I'd last seen 20 years ago.
"He looks so ... old," I thought.
Then, a horrifying addendum popped into my brain.
Do I look old, too?
I laughed nervously and glanced at a nearby mirror. The woman who looked back had gray hair and a body that no longer can be mistaken for that of a 22-year-old.
But old? No way.
I admit, having young children doesn't help. Compared to them, I'm ancient, born in a time before cellphones and YouTube.
I remember watching a network TV show with my kids when suddenly one of them gave me a strange look.
"Why did the show stop?" he asked incredulously, having only watched shows on streaming services like Netflix, a seamless experience without interruption. "What's this?"
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