Although my brain has been convinced that it's 33 since I was 10 years old, and the voice in my head hasn't changed much since puberty, I can consistently look back and see that my actions belied the maturity I thought I possessed. It leads me to speculate - if I was wrong about myself at 10, wrong about myself at 15, wrong about myself at 20, what reassurances can my 25 year old self have that I am not making an ass of myself on a daily basis? That my thoughts are actually reasonable and sound?
And that is what maturity is, I imagine. That day when the thoughts in your head mesh with reality as you imagine them to do. You hit the magical age when everything falls into place.
That thought is reassuring, but only until I consider the flip side - senility. In my opinion, most people over 70 (maybe in today's world 80) are completely out of touch with reality, rigid to the point of crazy, and win the dubious "Most likely to bitch about the Jewish/black/gay family down the street" award. They are also the most likely group of people to complain the world is going to hell, vote against money for schools, and take issue with the DVD player, in spite of the fact that DVDs have been around for over a decade, and are hardly considered "new" technology or difficult to use.
Is there a window of time when you have it all figured out? When you are a reasonable, and highly functioning member of society? When you are finally considered "wise?" Someone who can confidently go forth, knowing they aren't leaving a massive trail of fucked-up behind them? Is that window smaller than we all think?
On that note, this is my favorite picture of Grandma P. - after our other elderly neighbor backed her car into the front yard. Is this the best we can hope for after a long and well lived life?
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