Those of you who know me will be aware that an increasing awareness of my own
I'm not troubled by this, I'm just conscious of it. And perhaps a little bit jittery about making the most of now. And sometimes I stumble across evidence of time racing. Like yesterday I was listening to my favourite radio station, and the talkback was on. A little old lady sounding listener called in to wish her husband a happy 60th wedding anniversary. She had one of those little old lady voices. I had a lightbulb moment.
I no longer have any little old lady (or man) sounding voices in my life, apart from on the radio. I have no more Nanny or Grandy's, Nana or Grandad's, or Aunty Aggie's. But I can hear their voices like I still did.
My world has lost it's "oldies" and a new generation is growing into that title and those voices. My Dad's generation. Generations are transitioning, which means I'm no longer that 13 year old girl going to my grandparents for Sunday dinner. To my kids, my dad's voice is now an oldie voice. Which means my generation is a step closer up the rung. And so is my Dad's.
And isn't there something lovely and comforting in listening to oldie voices. They bring back memories of childhood, simple lives, home baking and no responsibilities. And opportunities, with the world at our feet, even though we didn't know it.
I miss my Oldies.