I am indeed old...

I am not one of those people who freak out by age. I'm 31. It's ok. And when I turned 30, that was ok too. I don't care what number it says I am, the more important thing is how I feel. To me, age is a feeling. It's true I have some definite 'old' parts to my body. Stiff knees, knobby fingers, achy hip - but for the most part I've always felt pretty young. I knew what was "hip", I was up on the latest technology, I dressed relatively mainstream. I could pull off young. Well, things have changed in my life's new adventures. You see, every morning I walk from my car by several dorms to my school near the center of campus. In my journey I cross students headed to their first classes, or back from a morning 'at the gym'. I cross the football players returning from early morning practices and work outs. In the afternoon I meander back to my car by soccer games, girls headed out for an afternoon activity, and a bevy of students rushing to more classes. It is here, in their midst, that I finally realized that I was old. I don't have on the right goofy keds, I'm not wearing a fedora or big white sunglasses, I don't have an iPhone attached to one ear. I'm old. They do not look at me and say "oh, I wonder what dorm that college student lives in" or "was she in my math class?" Clearly I am working from the other end of the spectrum on campus. And you know what, I'm ok with it. I don't mind being old. Maybe they'll think I'm wiser. Maybe they'll show some respect and get out of the way when I walk by. I guess it's not so bad being old.