In exactly one month, I will be thirty-nine years old.  It seems so strange to say that.  For some reason, when I was a kid I thought I’d feel different when I was this age, that I’d feel old somehow.  Of course, I thought I was invincible then, so my vision of my future self was a bit skewed.

My kids told me recently that I am not old because I’m not forty yet.



They don’t know that I’ve spotted a few gray hairs recently.  Right in the front as luck would have it.  Why can’t those things appear in the back of my head underneath the other hair?  The kids would be gasping for air in fits of giggles over this discovery.  But some things are for adults only, and I believe the discussion of gray hair, especially gray hair that happens to be sprouting on my head, falls into that category.