The announcement that Donna had reached middle age came stealthily and without warning.
Donna, at 42-year-old, was in perfect health. She was fit, trim and ate only the healthiest of foods, eschewing soda and candy. She was still asked for her identification when buying wine at the grocery store. She ran several miles everyday. And in local road races, she was known for beating people half her age.
“Forty is the new twenty!” her friends would say of Donna’s seeming agelessness.
Donna heard the Quip so often that a part of her believed that this aging thing was surely for other people.
That all changed during what should have been a fairly innocuous event: atrip to the Department of Moter Vehicles to renew her driver’s license.
“Name?’ the clerk asked without looking up. Donna replied.
“Address?” Donna gave it.
“Look through there,please,” the clerk gestured toward an eye testing machine perched at the edge of the desk. “Read the first four lines.” She singhed.
Donna pushed her head against the contraption.
“Go ahead”
Donna was perplexed. Everyting was fuzzy. “l think the glass is dirty,” Donna said, searching the desk for a tissue to wipe off the lens.
“lt’s not dirty,” the clerk said, her voice dripping with condescension.
“There must be some problem,” Donna said, pressing her head against the machine once more.
“Ma’am, do you wear glasses?”
“No, no, l don’t,” Donna respomded, a little embarrassed now, as other people in the room began turning to see what was going on.
The clerk glanced down at Donna’s old license and back up at her. “Welcome to middle age. Sweetheart. Come back when you’ve had eye exam and gotten glasses.”