The Countdown to Old Age and Infirmity

I have about eight days left of social relevance. Knowing that a week from tomorrow, I'll be firmly ensconced in my late 20s (and maybe I already was, but I've been trying to justify 27 as young and hip), I am faced with... well, truthfully, nothing. I really don't think 28 will be all that different from 27, and if it is, I hope only in that I get better. And that I don't make the same mistakes of last year. You know, the usual mantra of someone moving toward self-actualization and what-not.
Most of the time, I feel 16. The other day I started thinking about how weird it would be to go to church with a bunch of families instead of a group of single people. And then I thought about how odd it will be to have a husband. I just can't imagine living with someone, sharing the space. I don't say that out of selfishness so much as I'm so used to being on my own that the idea seems foreign and not quite right. Kids I used to babysit are getting married and asking me to help decorate at their weddings. A little girl I used to see parading around in a flouncy peach dress as a toddler is now going out on occasional dates with a boy I've kissed. Even with some of the people I hang out with frequently, I often find myself making references to my childhood that leaves them scratching their heads. Did you know that most teenagers today have no concept of "ALF?" That's tragic. And with Will Smith's kid taking on Ralph Macchio's role in a re-make of "The Karate Kid," the magic of Pat Morita teaching Daniel-Son the crane may be lost forever. And now, I sound like an old fogey. Good thing my body is still strong from all those years walking to and from school, barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways.
Not that aging doesn't have its benefits. I know I've already mentioned the satisfaction I still get from knowing I could buy a McDonald's Happy Meal any time I want (even though the desire hasn't really struck yet in all my years of adulthood). I've had a wealth of experiences-- you know, the big ones like college and travel abroad and designing/building/paying for(still and for a long time) a home, etc. But also there's been that interesting and wide-range of roles I've been able to play. I've done the daughter and student thing. But now I'm an aunt, and an executive assistant/office manager. I was a reporter and an editor and a public relations practitioner, and I did the fancy flying across country for business bit. I've been a friend in some capacity for as far back as I can remember (oh, how excited I was to know that Shawn Parker was going to be in my pre-school class and that our cubbies were right next to one another's), but instead of playing with the kids across the street, jumping on trampolines and imagining we were on a secret mission for the President of the United States, I'm calling and emailing my friends across the country (too bad the ultimate bestie is all the way in D.C., right?) or reconnecting with someone I had class with in Lublin.
As you get older, you get more opportunities to star as different characters in your own life story. My dating life alone bestows plenty of titles and archetypes upon me-- obviously, I'm the (not-so-helpless) virgin, waiting to be rescued by Prince Charming (who I'm seriously hoping will be sporting the Cons), and often I'm the fairy godmother (Lou and I enjoyed playing this part for Pamsicle last night). Sometimes I'm the villain (ask the mother of a boy I liked for a really long time-- she thought I was much too worldly for her son), and sometimes I'm the victim of the evil plot of the mother-figure (like the time Travis' mom made me the 9-whole-grain bread and slipped the jagged piece of plastic in, which easily could have punctured my esophagus). Occasionally I'm Kate from Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew" (ok, ok, a lot of the time), but sometimes I'm also Bianca with dozens of stupid, toady suitors and a propensity for whining. I'm Belle because I'm enterprising, and Aurora because I'm tremendously blessed. I'm Scout Finch and Elizabeth Bennett and Mary Lennox and a million others.
Five years ago, I'd just graduated from college and didn't know where life would take me, nor did I expect to end up where I am now. I really couldn't see past the summer and flitted around, trying to pretend that I didn't need to really be an adult. Instead, I studied a language very few people use, and spent my evenings dreaming of marrying a friend who I basically only loved because I thought we could live a happy life as expatriates. Two years ago, I was going on my first date with a boy I thought was amazing, but he turned out to be sub-average. Imagine my surprise when I came home to find another boy had thrown me a surprise party, and managed to do it at my very house. The initial and momentary love of my life called me from the airport, but I didn't even miss him that night. A year ago, I fretted and fussed because I knew all my friends had finals and I didn't think that anyone would have time or a desire to celebrate the fact I'd survived 27 years on the planet, but again my friends surprised me. Not only did we party in the most memorable way (and by memorable, me nearly lighting my then-long hair on fire in the blaze of candles atop my melting ice-cream cake and Blair Peterson serenading me with the Backstreet Boys, "I Want It That Way" both come to mind), but also some friends gave me a baseball bat to protect myself from the scary man across the street (who, incidentally, may be back... boo!), and another one brought me a boyfriend. Six months ago, I at once thought my life was over and that I'd never be happy again, while still cultivating a "gorgeous sense of hope" (Emma Magenta) that things would turn out in the end. Three weeks ago I thought I'd be starting grad school soon, and when I got the strong sense that was wrong, I launched back into the writing and finally getting this book down on paper. Yesterday, I pretty much spent my time thinking about selling insulation, and last night I only cared about my friends. It's not that I can't finish projects-- I'm the list-maker-and-crosser-offer deluxe. And it's not that I have Attention Deficit Disorder or anything. I'm just finding that getting older gives a person a greater understanding of life's funny way of never turning out just as you expect. But when you take a step back at the overall picture, it's more beautiful than you could have imagined.