Day 8 -- Where I'm From

Who is this elderly woman who wants to run like a 20-year-old? All I know is I'm the same "me" that I've always felt myself to be. When I think of being outdoors and of being in motion, my thoughts are as ancient and as familiar to me as my own face in the mirror. I remember being out in our big front yard, playing with my sisters. Climbing trees. Playing hide and seek. I remember going to Pyramid Lake; at seven years old I was allowed to walk (and run!) as far down the beach as I wanted, and I wanted to go far. (There was no one else there but us.) The world was a mystery to me, a miraculous mystery of sun and shadow and green and brown--of mountain and lake and desert. Always desert, growing up in Nevada.

One beautiful thing about being really young is that it takes no effort to be in the now. When you're the age I was when this picture was taken, the now is all you know. Take a look at this little girl. That's where I'm from.

My grandmother said to me once, "I never dreamed I would get this old." I was probably 12 years old when she said it, and she might have been 75. I felt impatient at hearing that. It was a "no duh" moment for me--I mean, everyone gets old, right? Not surprising, Grandma.

But now I know. It is a surprise. Getting old is something that happens, all right, but to, well, old people. With luck, I'll learn this first hand someday. Just not yet. I'm only getting old, right? I've heard it said that old is always 10 years ahead of where you are. Sounds good to me.

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