“Are you a student, here for the conference?”
This question came from a stranger who had just stepped into the elevator. Her inquiry was valid. The conference I was headed to highlighted teens and student leaders in one of their sessions. But I couldn’t help but smirk.
“How old do you think I am?” I asked her. “Guess away. I won’t be offended,” I added.
She scrunched her lips. “Mmm . . . in your mid-20s, perhaps?”
Ha! I thought but didn’t say, that was more than 20 pounds and 20 years ago. When I disclosed my exact age, she frowned.
“No way.”
The woman maintained her disbelief after the elevator deposited us into a well-lit lobby, allowing her to scrutinize my face. To hunt for fine lines and wrinkles, I presume. She finally walked away. With a small shake of her head, I heard her murmur, “I can’t believe it.”
The interaction lifted my spirit. It had been a while since a stranger mistook me for years younger than my physiological age. But the point of the story isn’t to boast about my good genes; it’s a reminder that I’m no longer the young adult I used to be. Since I’ve accumulated bits of wisdom in the intervening decades, there are lessons I know now that I didn’t two decades ago. And if you’d like to, you’re invited to adopt them for your own use.
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