Sunday, January 25, 2009

When I Reach the Age of a Handicap Sticker

As we were driving down the road the other day, we stopped behind this beautiful convertible silver audi--a perfect little car, I wanted it. Then, as we looked closer, my sister pointed out the small handicap sticker in the corner of the license plate. Sure enough, there was a little old silver-haired man driving the little new silver audi. How ironic we thought! Total oxymoron, right? Then it occurred to me, why not? When I am old, I don't want to be driving an old boat of a car, going 20 miles an hour down the freeway. Just because my body is old, doesn't mean my mind is. Thus, I was proud of this little old man, and his little silver audi. That's the kind of little old grandma I think I will be.

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