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Forgetting to Age Properly

The other day my daughter, Carly, looked at her dad and said:

"Look Dad! I can talk inside my head!"

And then she screwed up her eyes and started silently mouthing words.

It was just about the funniest thing I had ever seen or heard. I've been repeating it back to her ever since, because first, its HI-larious, and second, I don't want to forget.

See, I think that maybe the gray hairs sprouting on my head are conduits for memories. Unfortunately, they let the memories out instead of pulling them in.

It doesn't seem fair. I'm only 32 30-something! I haven't seen Europe yet. I haven't published a novel. (Perhaps writing one might be a good way to start, but I digress.) I haven't learned to stand up for myself or handle confrontation. I still have a tendency to speak before I think. And there is that nagging pregnancy weight I haven't lost. From eleven years ago. There is still a lot to do!

Next week is my birthday. I don't really have a problem with getting older (yet) mostly because I still get presents on my birthday. It kind of absorbs the blow. Plus, I don't feel any older. I still feel 18. Okay, maybe not 18. 25ish? I feel skinny outside even though I'm not. I feel stylish, but I am careful never to show up in a photo in case it might show evidence to the contrary. I feel modern, I feel cutting edge, I feel current. That should count for something, right?


On the upside, give me about 20 minutes and the gray hair memory conduits will kick in. I'll forget this whole thing ever happened.

Sarah was recently granted every wish she ever had that was worth wishing and now she's learning to be happy with that. She lives in New Mexico with her husband, son and daughter. When she's not chasing rainbows she writes random stuff on her blog, State of Obvious.

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