By Nora Fields

Now that we’ve been introduced, your next question is probably why you should read about getting old. I don’t plan on making this about being old so much as reflecting on how I got here — and giving you a chance to pause and consider your own path toward those so-called golden years.

After spending most of my life going 100 miles per hour, I’m discovering that retirement isn’t what I expected. I can’t help but feel like previous generations withheld a few details. I won’t say we were lied to, but there’s plenty I wish I’d known. Between keeping your head above water and living in the moment, retirement somehow sneaks up on you.

Most importantly, I didn’t know I was old — until I was told.

It took the brutal honesty of my four-year-old granddaughter to deliver the news. She had no idea she had just jeopardized her chances of a full-ride college scholarship from Grandma. (Relax — I wouldn’t really do that.) While she looks just like her mother, she is very much my son’s daughter. She simply tells it like she sees it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; I’ve been accused of the same thing a time or two.

If I’m honest, I measured “old” by my grandparents too.  What I considered old back then are now today’s great grandparents.  Funny how your perception changes!

What I didn’t realize about aging is that inside, you feel much the same as you did 20 or 30 years ago. Aside from a body that occasionally files formal complaints, my mind still wants what it always has. I recently heard someone say that inside every adult is an eight-year-old child. The older I get, the more I believe that’s true.

We are the sum of our experiences. Our reactions today are shaped by everything that came before. Yet somewhere along the way, we decided that adults should be able to handle criticism without flinching — especially on social media. News flash: we can’t. That eight-year-old is still in there.

Be kind. We’re all just kids with wrinkles.

We’re all aging.
Let’s do it out loud.

Nora

As printed in The County Journal on March 28, 2026.