Who Are These Old, Old People

We buried my grandmother yesterday here in Atlanta. Family from the corners of the globe gathered together complete with their kids, receding hairlines, new spouses or fiances, pudgy bellies, other kids, bifocals, bad backs and their children. These family gatherings always get to me because I have always watched the same people get older and older and older. It always kinda depressed me. "Poor old folks," I thought. Difference now is that I am a part of that above crowd. Who are these old people? Me and my cousins and my brother and people I used to stand with as we taunted the advance of time on us. No more. I am every bit of my 35 years (though my balding cousins say I have not aged a bit) and have now become part of that group my kids and their cousins look at and lovingly refer to as "old".

Sigh...