my mom turns eighty on
monday. i find that fairly
astounding. and then i
think of other numbers,
like seventy or ninety,
and they start to all
sound the same. like
fifty-five, which i find,
in general, to be a pretty
nifty number. that’s my
age. which i thought was
two years younger than
when my dad died. but i
counted a few days ago.
i mean i did the math and
he was actually fifty-nine.
then i imagined my father
at eighty. which, as imagi
nation goes, was a bit insur
mountable, or at least surreal.
while i can’t imagine making
it to eighty myself, i think i’d
like to dig this up and read
it if i do. how old are you?
