there is a cherry on the table. and if i could just reach it i would know colour, i would know my past, i could have again the loves i’ve lost, and the places i’ve been, and all the growing up i’ve done…
but the table is vast and the cherry seems to shrink before my eyes, rotting, shriveling, becoming meek. i see the pip and the stem falls off and then… and it’s so fast. so very fast. so very, very…
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Linda G. Hill 
Yep, that’s aging.
I used to look younger than my “real” age — then the gap got smaller. Two weeks ago, someone put my age a couple of years older than I am. And it wasn’t to reflect my maturity. . . :<)
Yeah, I’m in the same boat. I was asked for ID up until I was in my 30s. Then a few years back, someone referred to my ex-husband as my son… Ouch.
“Ouch, indeed!” she winced in empathy.
😛
that’s rather sad 😦
It really is. Unfortunately, it’s life.