I have another birthday coming up in a bit more than two months. And I'm perplexed by my age. I do not feel very old at all. I still long to waste time on juvenile activities. Though I have a very, very grown up job, I'd like to spend a lot more time playing. While I'm not so immature that I can fully relate to the silliness of my schoolgirls, I feel a lot closer to 21 than I do to 40. But I'm a lot closer to 40.
And appearances. I look at pictures of my dad and mom, with their brothers and sisters and their wives and husbands, and I remember thinking as a child that these people were very, very old. And I see the pictures now, and I view them as people much older than I am. But then I read the back of the picture, and see the years, and do the math, and conclude that they were actually much, much younger then than I am now.
Maybe I just don't see it in my mirror, but I don't think I look that old. Aside from my thinning, but still growing hair, I see little age on my face. I feel like I could enroll in college again and be accepted as a peer. But clearly I can't. I just don't perceive myself accurately.
This picture of Edgar Allen Poe was taken when he was the age I will become before the end of this winter. He died a year after that. Take a look at his face. Can't you see the years in his eyes? In his lips. On his chin? Sadly, he has no more real age than I. He just looks old. I do not feel the way he looks.
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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