Time passes, life changes and we can’t stop growing old, as a song says. This seems to be particularly true once you turn 40. Far from saying 40 is “old” in any way: I don’t think it is and I certainly don’t feel old, unless I’ve been out to dinner with friends the night before and had a glass of red too many, in which case I feel ancient the following morning — and for another 36 hours after that.
But I’m digressing, as I often do. Point is that once you’re 40, the notion yours is no longer the “younger generation” seeps through the cracks for real, especially when it strikes you that high schoolers can be your children.
