good lord i'm old!

when, i ask, WHEN did i become my mother?? it was way before i wandered the street downtown with my yoga instructor on one side of me and maryann on the other as i tried to remember where i parked. my mind was blank. as blank as it was 30 minutes previous when itried in vain to remember my PIN number. i worry about alzheimers. in these moments, an icy terror grips me thinking about it. clare, ever the namaste one, asking me "what do you remember seeing right before you parked?" " a no parking sign." this wasn't going well. i would have to wait till every last person left downtown to find my car. then THEN today i get a forwarded email from a girl i went to high school with, and worked with in radio briefly. where is Linda? she asks. our 35th high school reunion is next year and i'm on the committee. 35?!? since when did they skip over the 15-34th ones? i cannot possibly be going to a for-real 35th reunion. and the only person i'll recognize will be Willy, (now William) who i had a mad crush on from 7th - 9th grade, and is now the manager at the gi-normous grocery chain store where i shop, and often looking like i was just dredged from Onondaga Lake (the nations #1 most polluted...Go Syracuse!) and trying to skulk behind the mangos till he walks past. once in a while i take some effort in the contact lens and mascara dept and wear an actual outfit, then go to that store for no other reason than hoping he'll see that i'm not some hopeless mess of a former classmate. usually it's his day off. you know how there was always That Girl..the one who taunted you or beat you up or stole your boyfriend or some other hideousness we girls visit upon each other when we are young and haven't learned to posse up...you know, THAT one? why, i ask, why am i always similarly dressed when i see her? not that i even care or remember why i feel all furious when i see her, but why am i always in the midst of some embarassment? it's so true what they say - that you have to get over your 7th grade self before you can become the self you were meant to be. 7th grade was killer. i'll never know why 7th grade. but it was. and it seems to be a shared experience . maybe it's a hormonal thing. who knows. that was the year i became a rebel, mostly inside, because i wasn't sure what to do with my thoughts outside. so it was a delicate balancing act. with a few tips. so, i ramble here. but anyway, as if my 50th birthday didn't get me thinking about age, and the end of the trolley ride...now THIS ...this reunion thing. oy. i have no idea what to wear. L.