This might be the strangest age yet. Too old to be young. Too young to be old. Somewhere in the middle, but likely closer to the end than the beginning.
Kids moving on, but not unassisted. Parents mostly independent but getting older with actuarial tables catching up to them and their peers.
Feeling mentally wiser but a little slower. Capable yet content. Not wanting to set the world on fire, yet driven to make something meaningful.
When I started college many years ago, I remember my Dad saying that walking around the campus he still felt like a student himself, or at least he could easily relate to them. Now I can relate to him. He was right. I don’t feel like I have changed much, although I realize my circumstances have.
My memory could be better. Current details fail to register, and long remembered details seem to take longer to bring to the surface. I am not afraid of passing on, but am afraid of fading away.
Physically age is beginning to register. Some is situational and I can make things better by trying harder, but some is chronological and feels hardwired. Reading words requires greater magnification and lighting. Hairlines recede and won’t come back. Joints make their presence known on occasion. Mirrors seem less friendly than they once were, and I avoid finding my way into pictures and inhale and hold when I do.
Watching aging rock stars defy the odds is amusing as they earned their chops by singing out against a generation that was younger than they are now.
Watching movies that were significant at different ages put things in perspective too. Hard to believe movies made in the 90s and 80s are hitting their 20s and 30s in age. Hard to believe there are James Bond movies over 50 years old.
Lots of life yet to live (knocking on wood). Guaranteed ups and downs. New to us perhaps but not new.
The in-between days are not a bad place to be, but the recognition that you are there is strange.