Every year on this date, Suzanne catches up to me, age-wise. She now joins me in my 57-ness. I kinda like that I get to get older first, so I can scout out the new territory that comes with the next age number. I get to tame the wilds of each year’s age and pave a clear way through it. I get to map out the age by myself for four months, making sure it’s safe for her to proceed. I consider getting there first—whatever age it is—to be part of my job. So far, I haven’t found 57 to be significantly different from 56, so I think Suzanne will easily manage the transition to an older number quite well. Of course, Suzanne manages to do just about everything well. Everything except dancing. Dancing is not in her skill set. We will not be going out dancing tonight to celebrate her birthday. At 57, her old bones are getting too brittle to try something so dangerous for her. I have learned at least that much from being 57.
