 A few years ago, my twin sister and I were looking at some childhood photos with our teenaged nieces, W and T.  T showed Katy this picture and asked her, "Which one is you?"  Katy said, "That's Kristy on the left, so that is me."  I asked her why she had said it that way and she told me that it was because, in the pictures from our formative years, she never knows which one she is but she always knows which one is me.  I told her that I could never tell which one was me, but I could pick her out from 20 paces.  Since then, I always think of that when I see this picture.
A few years ago, my twin sister and I were looking at some childhood photos with our teenaged nieces, W and T.  T showed Katy this picture and asked her, "Which one is you?"  Katy said, "That's Kristy on the left, so that is me."  I asked her why she had said it that way and she told me that it was because, in the pictures from our formative years, she never knows which one she is but she always knows which one is me.  I told her that I could never tell which one was me, but I could pick her out from 20 paces.  Since then, I always think of that when I see this picture.     I've always been curious about those people who refuse to celebrate or even acknowledge their birthdays. I don't understand it. I love my birthday.
And I love growing older and I love the wisdom of age - of all ages.
The giddy excitement I felt when turning 10 and entering the "double digits" ... the joy of being 16 and driving for the first time ... 18 and the first lottery ticket ... 21 and, well, just being 21....of being 25 and knowing you can rent a car without the ridiculous inflated rates...of being 27 and not the youngest person in your office anymore ... being in your "mid-30s" ... of being 50 and knowing that your life has spanned half a century ... the wisdom that comes with growing older and seeing the world through aged and knowing eyes. . . .
Like my oldest sister, who told me recently that she is a little thrilled to be able to say "I am nearly 40 years old and I am not going to put up with this crap anymore...."
The joy of my lovely mother, who is secretly pleased, I'm sure, when people are surprised to learn that she is 64....
Some people say age is irrelevant or age is just a number. Me, I think age is like a badge of honor. Don't be afraid of how old you are. Someone asked my grandfather once what it was like to be old (he was in his 80s at the time) and he said that it is "better than the alternative". I've always like that.
They say that it is impolite to ask a lady's age. I have been blessed in my life to know many, many women who embrace their age - whatever that might be - and are proud to say, "I am ...." pick a number. I guess the only reason to be ashamed of your age would be if you were squandering the years. And that is one think I never intend to do.
So -
Happy 29th birthday to my twin sister Katy - and to me!!!
 







 Have I ever told ya’ll about Katy? Katy is my twin sister. She sent me the above picture in an email earlier today. The email was titled "The Saddest Email You've Ever Seen". Next Wednesday is Katy's birthday.
Have I ever told ya’ll about Katy? Katy is my twin sister. She sent me the above picture in an email earlier today. The email was titled "The Saddest Email You've Ever Seen". Next Wednesday is Katy's birthday.

 
 
