The Middle Age, at Last, and How I Knew
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Contrast.
When I took a look at Aislinn’s 14th birthday pictures, taken at my mom’s kitchen table, I understood at last that I am now in the Middle Age. It’s not a year or span of years or any way society or a medical record might define it. It’s my own definition.
A couple of Aislinn’s less flattering pictures had her bending over her cake, mouth full of braces, hair in her face, mouth wide open. The deja vu was overwhelming. Far too similar to a picture taken of me on my own 14th birthday, bending over my cake, mouth full of braces, hair in my face, mouth wide open. Joking around, too, like she is 30 years later. But I hated that photo and the way I looked in it, especially with the open mouth of braces.
Then I looked at that picture of Aislinn and saw myself at the same age.
On the same day, I looked at a picture of me on the beach, laughing, and I saw not myself but my mom in her
30’s. I’d swear it was her looking back instead of me.
So my younger daughter now looks almost exactly as I did at the same age, though I was shorter and flatchested. And I look now as my mom did around my age.
At last I understand that I am now firmly in my Middle Age.