"Ma'am, do you have a Golden Buckeye card you would like to use?"
My 40-year-old face at the time was immediately horrified. First of all, I can't be old enough to be referred to as Ma'am. And clearly, I had done something to offend this 60-year-old who looked 70 and thought I was 55. But I'm over it.
Getting one year closer to that Buckeye card this past week gave me pause for reflection, among other things....
The day before my birthday I was about to head out the door to an early work meeting. Dave had just gotten in his truck to get to work himself when I heard a really loud THUNK, of the metal-to-metal kind in the vicinity of the driveway. I ran to the window and peered out into the darkness trying to see what had happened. That's when I heard Dave's visceral yell of frustration, sort of like a long growl with one vowel sound and a resounding r. "I think Dad needs help!" I yelled up to the boys.
Upset with himself he came storming into the house, "I backed into the van!"
Turns out Dexter had no where else to park the night before, except the side of the driveway. The damages? The truck needs a couple hundred dollars worth of repair (a discounted cost from yet another kind person). The van just looks worse than it did before. I used to notice the scratches and dents here and there on the ugly green machine. Now, I notice the undamaged little patches here and there, so beautiful when the sun reflects off the metallic paint. More importantly I focus more on the fact that the wheels still turn, and it's paid for. But let me emphasize the word focus. I have to focus on these areas.
It's all good, aging has its beautiful pay offs. So go ahead, you can call me Ma'am (but don't ask me for my Buckeye card just yet).