This post by Girl’s Gone Child got us thinking:
My mother tells me we all have an age inside of us. Some of us are born with little old men in our souls or little old women or infants or toddlers. [My son] was born one hundred and two but I am thirteen. I turned thirteen and seventeen years later, here I am: confused by the appearance of my face without braces, my bedstand without Sassy magazine.
Do you feel your own age? Or is there a little old lady (or man) trapped inside of you?