All things Must Age

Age is really irrelevant to me.

Whether you’re 2, 20, or 200–each person has a set of experiences, a place in time, and a position in the universe which is unique, immediate, and ultimately transitory. I’m not one of those people who only wants to hang around with people my own age, or pursue people younger than myself, as if satisfying some latent fear of getting older by surrounding myself with what I believe is “youth,” and layering myself with the styles and trends of the illusionary world, just to keep myself “young.”

In the bigger scheme of the universe, we’re all such tiny little children, anyway! And even still, mountains which are millions of years old, are only wee little things compared to geographic formations that’ve been around the block for a billion years… And in the end, the mountains fall, and the formations change..

I have, however, noticed that I’m older than I used to be. Yep. It’s true. This isn’t a bad thing at all. It’s just different. It’s just interesting to be passing through that point in my life–the point where I realize I’m transitioning. In fact, it’s fascinating. It’s weird. Fun. Strange. Crazy.

I had an epiphany last night. I bet we all long for times when things seemed nicer, especially in our own lives, when things aren’t going perfectly in the present day–and I’ve lately been enjoying 70’s and 80’s cop and detective shows, which have always been a secret passion of mine. I was watching Miami Vice. Yes, really–an epiphany while watching dated TV, with droopy eyed Don Johnson, and lots of overacting by secondary cops and bad guys.

I realized–it’s been 25 years since this episode aired! And I remember it so clearly when it aired. 25 years! One of the investigators I work with everyday is only 21.

And yet–who the heck am I to have a revelation like that? I bet Don Johnson says, “Man! It’s been 25 years sinceI was 35?! How the hell did that happen?”

I have never been worried about it before, but lately, little interesting things have popped up. Like the episode. Like remembering things that other people don’t. And I’m sure there’s someone else reading this blog, chuckling at my innocent, youthful naivety–that I have only just had the 25 year epiphany.

Aren’t we all one day older than the day before? Isn’t it interesting?

Here’s to 25 more, and 25 more, and 25 more…