04 September 2011

I Must Be Getting Old

Picture this. I'm at the airport, picking up my grandma, and things aren't going as smoothly as I wish, so I call my mom to complain. Do you see it? There I am, sitting in my car, talking on the phone, flailing my hands around in dramatic gestures of frustration.

And a child walks by. She must have been about nine or ten, and she was walking behind the mom, pushing her cart, passing in front of my car. She looks at me and then...

Flails her arms around. Like I was just doing, she teases me.

So I smile. and she smiles back, kindly.

I must be getting old.

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