On paper I am 48. In my head I am 35. After 9 or 10 p.m. I am 65, and the morning after yard work I am 80. When I am hungry I am 8.
Rebe and I were driving between Austin and Dallas, on our way from visiting the kids at college, and I was at the wheel. "Under the Bridge" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers came on, a song that was all over the radio the summer I was 14.
I turned it up and drummed on the steering wheel, and Rebe and I sang it as loud as we could. Then a small-town police officer pulled me over for speeding.
I was 21 again, not paying attention, singing at the top of my lungs.
14, 21 and 48 all fit in the same front seat.
You probably have a list like mine, even if you have never said it out loud: the age on the form at the doctor's office, the age you are when the band is good, the age you are carrying the laundry up the stairs. When the right song comes on, you do not get to pick one of them. You get all of them at once.
“So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity.”
Ecclesiastes 11:8
Most of those songs run about 4 minutes. That is long enough to turn it up and find out who else in the car knows the words.
We stopped at Buc-ee's too, because at 48 a road trip needs more pit stops.