Where or When

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Debbie and I just met for lunch and were looking at the menus when a woman came

over and greeted me warmly, "Hello, how nice to see you...how have you been?'

"Fine, and you?" I plastered a big smile on my face,"This is my daughter," I said.

They nodded to each other just as she was called away by her friends.

I stared at her back as she walked away. "Good friend?" asked Debbie,

laughing. She knew.

I shook my head."Not the faintest idea," I said. I wasn't laughing.

This aging thing really stinks, I thought, or 'sucks' as the young ones say.

Was my memory failing so badly, or was it possible that it was mistaken

identity and that she, a senior also, thought I was someone else? 

As Debbie checked the menu I started singing a song that popped into

my head; "It seems we stood and talked like this before... looked at each

other in the same way then... but I can't remember where or when...."

"What are you singing?" she asked.

"It's from the 40's's... the best music ever was from that era...."

"I know, you told us... a mill... zillion times."

I ignored it. "The clothes you are wearing, you were wearing then."..

I sang ,"but I can't remember where or when..."

"Seriously Ma, you didn't know her?"

"The French Toast here is scrumptious!" I said. Upset, I was changing the subject

while I muttered to myself, "This 'Aging' thing is for the birds!"

"How do birds age?" she asked , taking out her smart phone. 

"I was talking to myself." I said.

"Is it happening a lot Ma, forgetting people?"

"Ha, not just people, my keys, my eyeglasses, cell phone, my grocery list...car!

 I couldn't find my car yesterday in the Stop and Shop parking lot.I ran all over..."

"You need to talk to someone about this"  said Debbie.

"I am" I said.

"Good!" said Debbie."Who?"

"You!"

She rolled her eyes and groaned," No, I mean a professional in the field." 

"It's for the birds!" I repeated.

"Ah, here it is," she said, " 'How do birds age?'" She read."The age of a bird can be

determined by it's feathers...oh, here's another one, 'some birds have the same

geriatric diseases as humans, such as arthritis..." 

"Never mind the 'bird thing'" I said, just as the woman who had greeted me earlier

re-appeared. "You don't remember me, do you! I'm Irene, from High School.. the

volley ball team?"

I stared hard at her,"Yes! Now I recognize you...it's those green eyes of yours,

I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright, it's been...how many years...?"

"Let's not count them," I said.

Omg, I thought, Irene, I do remember her. And I was grateful for the

umpteenth time that there is no technology yet to read minds.

She used to be so pretty, was my thought. And I was grateful that I couldn't

read hers...I wasn't lookin' so darn great either! 

She joined us at the table and we caught up with each other's lives. She

married her college sweetheart, they moved out of state and I never saw

her again. 

"So life's been good to you..."she said.

I nodded, "Y'know, a little of this, a little of that. I've been lucky...but this

aging thing, ugh."

"Hmmm, but it's better than the alternative."

"Ah, yes," I laughed, "that old 'alternative' cliche."

But I couldn't agree more. I pointed to Debbie, "It's all about my children and

their children...who will be coming home from college this week. They are the 

'wind beneath my wings' ". 

"You're not going to sing it, are you"? said Debbie just as I began to and Irene

joined in.

"Hah!" she exclaimed,clicking away on her smart  phone,"Guess what Ma, that

song was written in the early 80's, not the 40's."

"An exception!" I said, as Irene got up to leave and we promised to keep in touch.

And I thought, I really should stop complaining, about 'aging' or anything else. 

But, uh, uh no sense kidding. I knew myself... that wasn't going to happen. 

                                                 The End