According to my birth certificate, “Baby Girl” is 62 years old.  It’s a dark and stormy Monday afternoon and I am staring  at a blank screen.  I think of “It was a dark and stormy night….”and I smile.  This is English Comp 101, and my writing prompt is a question by Satchel Paige: How old would you be, if you didn’t know how old you are?

Now I am 18, a freshman in college, and staring at a blank sheet of paper while twirling and tapping my pen.  I am afraid that I don’t know what to write, or how to write it. I am nervous because some of my fellow students are writing furiously.  I am 5 years old and just figured out that the “Redbirds” are the slow readers.  I am a “Redbird”.  I want my Mommy.  And then I am 33 and a new Mother, and I hug and comfort my 5 year old self and my 1 year old son.

My son is 5 and playing on the playground.  He’s about to perform a daring feat and he yells, “Look at me Mom, look at me!”.  I turn to look at him and he’s in his cap and gown graduating from high school, and I am 50. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and suddenly I am back to 62, and my screen has 221 words on it.

How old am I?  I am a year younger than my husband, but he has late stage Lewy Body Dementia and I can’t really know how “old”he is. My son is 29 and this makes me feel old!  My calendar age is 62, but I feel young or old depending on my mental or emotional status report for the moment.  As a young girl, I remember pedaling hard to get to the top of the hill, and as I went over the top of the hill I could stop pedaling and feel the speed and the wind in my hair.  I wanted to do this again and again… and I still do.