I find as I grow older…as I watch the world unfold

despite losing hair and gaining wrinkles…I don’t often feel old.


Oh sure I know there were skills I had when I was young that I somehow today lack

and I’m not often sure when I look in the mirror who’s that old guy looking back


and sometimes that smile that occupies my face can turn into a frown

when I realize it’s much harder getting up from the floor…that it was getting down.


But for the most part I’m happy with my age, with who I am…where I’ve come from

and as long as I am feeling happy…I say let the aches and wrinkles come!


But the other day in the book store a thought occurred to me

that the young man I like to think I am is not the young man other people see.


A young family asked about our building

commenting on its beauty…remarking on it’s style

So I told them a little about it’s history

How it had been here for a while…


I told them there’s a plaque out front

to remind us of this building’s glory

on it is the original owner’s name

and a summary of it’s story


I told them it used to be a movie theater

In the 1920’s…way back when

It was here the youngest member of the family asked

“Were you working here back then?”


Everyone within earshot chuckled

(my laughter was more controlled)

as I wondered did she really think

I looked 100 years old?


I imagine children have a hard time determining age…

perhaps this is a skill they lack…

anyway….the next time someone asks about this building

I’ll just tell them…


read the plaque.