One of the treat of living here, where we have winters (or at least used to) is seeing Spring’s coming out. I just love to see all the little buds one day which turn into these little green leaves so tender… Spring makes everything right with me. I love to feel the sun getting warmer every day, especially when sitting in the car. Have you noticed how fast it gets hot in a car this time of year, and yet, as soon as the sun goes away, it’s cool? Nights are great. Perfect temperature to sleep: nice and crisp. Pure joy. Granted with Spring comes all the melted pooh disrespectful dog owners didn’t pick up during the winter months, and their lovely aromas. But, on days like we’ve had this past weekend, that smell was covered by the return of freshly cut grass…
I’ve wondered if me noticing seasonal changes was related to my aging and my consciousness of time passing or simply me being more aware of my surroundings. I have a sneaking suspicion it has to do with age, oh well.
Speaking of age, last week I realised something that was somewhat hard to swallow. A client of mine came over and while he’s signing cheques mentioned he felt old when he carded a customer at his club who was born in 1991. Over here, in Québec, drinking age is eighteen. My client was taken aback when he realised that customer was born the year he had finished high school. I just sat there thinking. That year rang a bell… oh wait, that’s the year I got my first tattoo… to celebrate my turning twenty-five. Man, oh man!
I don’t think I’d want to go back to being twenty years old, especially not on the dating scene. I would if I could keep the experience I’ve acquired; now that would be fun. Thinking back, I’ve missed some boats, some big boats. I was too naïve. I made up for it though. Now I’m an old…er chicky, with an attitude, which isn’t my problem... ah!