Do you know the exact moment you “got old”?

 It’s kind of like the questions: Do you remember where you were when JFK was shot?  Do you remember where you were when you heard about the Gulf War?   Do you remember your first kiss? Do you remember when you knew he/she was “the one”?

So I ask you:  “Do you know where you were or when you actually “got old”?

I do.  It was Saturday, February 4, 2017.  My younger sister texted me.  When we spoke on the phone we exchanged our stories.  She wrenched her back and I have a bulging disc.  It was Official.  We crossed the line from talking about the kids, to what’s happening in the family; maybe discuss something we read….and went straight to our aches and pains.

I keep hearing the lyrics to Mother’s Little Helper in my head.  I always imagined a different theme song playing in the background.  But as of right now, when I take another Aleve and put the heating pad on high….that’s whay I’m hearing.

Ode to the (old) Sisters

You can call me Betty, Ethel or Bernice

I will call you Addy, Stella or Eunice

When we talk on the phone

I hear about your aching bones

When I text a pic to you

It’s of my latest orthopedic shoes

We used talk about kissing boys

Now it’s only ‘ bout our stomach noise

How’d this happen little sister?

Instead of Miss they’re calling me Mister

In words of Jagger and Richards

What a drag it is getting old 

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