I Forgot to Get Old

About the Book

I have always prided myself on having a good memory but suddenly I looked in the mirror and saw a woman with white hair. Who was she? She looked familiar, but was she someone I knew? Internally, I am still this nubile creature anxiously awaiting another day, another adventure and every person a puzzle. Did I have all the adventures? Did I solve all the puzzles? Did I have a memory lapse? Did I move to another dimension? When did I get older? When did I grow up? Am I really wiser and mellower? I don’t think so. All the people I have known and met have seen my face and that is where I’ve been. The reflection of how others perceived me is the image I have of myself. There have been a variety of faces over the years but I seem to remember only the smiling, happy ones. I must have an “erase mode” that wipes out all the negative images I received. I feel the same as I did, ten, twenty, thirty years ago – or I think I do. There is always, not necessarily a fire in my belly, but certainly there are an abundant number of embers that with a little fanning begins to glow. There is still the mischievous five year old, the sober twelve year old, and the earnest twenty-one and on it goes, but who is that woman I now see in the mirror. I guess I will just have to get in touch with my “inner child” and tell it “You don’t have to act your age but try to be considerate of that woman in the mirror. It could turn out to be you”.

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