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.