'Amidst all the wonders recorded in holy writ,
no instance can be produced where a young woman from real inclination
has preferred an old man.'
George Washington, in a letter to the Marquis de Lafayette, Sep. 30 1779
It's my birthday in a few weeks. I'll be 29 summers old. Recently, people have delighted in reminding me that I am entering the last year of my twenties. A new decade awaits. I'll soon be a thirty-something.
I've always been a big fan of birthdays. Mine, other people's and, in recent years, especially those of my children. Watching my babies grow up is bitter sweet. I find myself mourning the loss of their infancy, while also overflowing with excitement at the thought of what their futures might hold.
To be honest, I still think of my own birthdays in the same way. Sure, it's a shame I'm not 18 anymore, but I can't help but feel there's so much more to come, so many more adventures to have. The prospect of leaving my twenties behind doesn't fill me with despair, as it seems to for so many of my peers. Instead, I can't wait to find out what's around the next corner.
I expressed this opinion to some fellow mothers in the school playground recently. One lady, a statuesque blonde dressed immaculately in skinny jeans and a stylish Breton tee, raised one eyebrow in mock horror.
'That's easy for you to say,' she interjected, 'come back and talk to me when you're 39, we'll see how you feel then. I'll be 40 before the summer is done. My life is essentially over.'
Really? I mean, really? At 40?
When I started to ponder the question of aging, it occurred to me that I have a fairly fluid notion of what constitutes 'old'. Moreover, I've developed a perception of age as being, well… kind of irrelevant. Let me try and explain…
My Mother {and I really hope she doesn't mind me telling you this} is 56. My step-father turned 80 this month. At the risk of stating the obvious, that's quite a sizeable age gap.
My Bonus Dad {for that is what I call him} has always been youthful, healthy, and full of energy. He was 63 when we were first introduced. Aside from his grey hair, he never seemed to carry any of the usual markers of old age.
Although I was conscious that school friends sometimes assumed he was my Grandfather, I was never bothered by the ample age difference between him and my Mum. She was immeasurably happy, my step-father was a good man, and the obvious love that underscored their relationship brought me a sense of security that had been lacking since my parents had separated.
If I step back and try to look upon the situation from an outsider's perspective, I can see their marriage might seem a little unusual, especially now that my step-dad has entered his eighties. Do people look upon my Mum with suspicion, inwardly wondering if he's her 'sugar daddy'? Are women wary of my step-dad? Do they fear he is a 'dirty old man'?!
Of course neither label applies. He's her husband. They met, they fell in love, they got married. Plain and simple. They share certain passions {travelling, good food, doing the Telegraph crossword and drinking red wine… to name but a few} and, in my opinion, the age gap between them is immaterial in light of their obvious compatibility. Besides, I've always been of the opinion that it isn't really anybody else's business.
I mean, you can't help who you fall in love with, and age is just a number, isn't it?
Earlier this year my step-father was involved in an accident. He came off his bicycle on a busy main road one morning. At 79, he still cycled everyday. The fall was nasty. He demolished most of his elbow and needed two lots of surgery to repair the joint with metal rods and bolts. Once the anaesthetic had worn off, my children made him smile by telling him he was a robot now.
Anybody would have a hard time recovering from such an ordeal, but there was a strong sense that my step-father's wounds would take longer to heal 'because of his age'. Suddenly, in light of such a vivid reminder of his mortality, and as we came to terms with the fact we could have lost him in that moment, his age seemed more relevant than ever before.
In the months that have passed since, I've felt as if I could almost hear the clogs turning in my Mother's mind. She's contemplating things.
Suddenly, the age difference is there in the foreground. Is it threatening to alter the dynamic of their relationship? Will it impose changes that other, more numerically matched, couples might have been spared?
But still there is love. And isn't that all you need?
Do you think age is an issue when it comes to relationships and marriage?
Is there an age gap between you and your partner? Did you approach marriage differently because of it?
How hung up are you on your own age? What does 'old' mean to you?
Franky
