Today, I had lunch with a girl I grew up with, whom I hadn't seen in a few years other than a quick hug at a funeral last year.

As she talked about her second marriage, her upcoming trip to Egypt, her plan to (starting in 2 years, of course) to have two children and then adopt a third, and the loss of her beloved dog and then that of her mother, I couldn't help but think about how fast life goes on.

As I was watching her talk and laugh and rehash old memories, I noticed the fine lines that have somehow settled around her eyes since the last time I saw her.  Wrinkles. Crow's feet! To me, she'll always be that 15-year-old cheerleader who uses too much hairspray and who always has the cool car (and who, by the way, wouldn't have given ME the time of day back then).

When I got back into my car, I pulled down the visor and looked at my own face. And there they were - just as prominent as hers, perhaps even more.  I have wrinkles around my eyes and mouth.  Where the hell did these come from?!  I look in the mirror every single day, sometimes quite closely.  Was I just blocking this out before?  I found my first gray hair about a year ago, but it was the only one - it was a fluke, a practical joke.  Right?

Yes, I know I'm not old.  I'll only be 31 this year.  And I'm having the time of my life - 30 has been the best year yet, and I imagine it's just going to get better.  But I also notice the little extra time it takes me to stand up from a squat. I notice how long it takes my back to move correctly after a night of dancing. I notice how there are more and more things I can say "yeah, I can't get away with wearing that shit anymore".  And, now, (ack!!) I notice wrinkles (wrinkles!!) on my face.

It's not growing older that bothers me, per se.  It's noticing that the me I finally got comfortable with being is changing yet again.  It's knowing that I still feel 22, but 22-year-olds see me as an older lady.  They call me ma'am.  MA'AM - me - the girl who, not-so-long ago snuck out of my parents' house and took a hit of LSD and stayed out past curfew with my skater boyfriend. 

It's realizing that this is it.  This is it.

And, so, tomorrow I'm going to sign up for more dance classes, even though I probably should be saving the money for a rainy day.  I love the dancing more than I've loved anything in awhile - and I only have this one chance to do it. 

And so do you.

So go, lovely bloggies, go...dance while you can.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Old Time is still a-flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.