The latest issue of the magazine AARP arrived last week. It’s the hot potato in our house as Richard will place it on the keyboard of my computer or by my things to take to work. When he’s not looking I will then surreptitiously put it on his desk in our office, both of us denying that we’ve had anything to do with it. “Did you put this on my computer?” I’ll ask, waving the magazine in front of him as I head out to work. “Nope. Didn’t see it,” he’ll reply. “You know, it’s your magazine. It’s addressed to you,” I’ll inform him, as though he hadn’t noticed or that this will change the fact that we are both over 50 and therefore deserving of its presence in our home. Truthfully, I am careening toward 52 at a frightening pace. How did I get here – I find myself wondering.
Last Friday, there it was on my desk, a reminder of the passing of time. Sharon Stone graced the cover, beaming, in all her youthful beauty. The only indicator of her advancing age were the reading glasses dangling from her right hand. I admit, I took some solace in seeing that she too requires reading glasses. Emma bounded into the office and plopped down on my lap. She looked at the photo of the dazzlingly gorgeous Sharon Stone and said the most beautiful words perhaps she has ever uttered, “It’s Mommy!” she exclaimed, before demanding to watch a YouTube video. (It must be said, I did NOT correct her, I should have, I know.) She could have asked for anything at that point. The world was hers for the taking.
In a moment of pure vanity, a moment I admit to being ashamed of, I showed her the magazine last night, just to see if she hadn’t somehow changed her mind. Sure enough, she glanced at it and said, “There’s Mommy!”
Love that kid.
For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to: Emma’s Hope Book