Judith Viorst: A whole other stage

I've reached the stage where my lawyer, my broker, my allergist, and my president are all significantly younger than I.
I've reached the stage where I recognize, when I'm byuing new living-room drapes or a new set of dishes, that they're likely to be the last ones that I'll ever buy.
And when I'm starting to tell my friends some really terrific story, and I ask them whether I've told them this story before, and no matter what story I've started to tell, they say yes,
I know I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where I find that most of the spaces I used to park in are now too small for my car.
I've reached the stage where I'm no longer able to call myself middle-aged because that's what my children are.
And when going to see two movies at two separate theaters on the same day, followed by eating a sausage-and-anchovy pizza, is what I'm defining as orgiastic excess,
I know that I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where a lot of the reading I'm doing is at the market checking salt-free and fat-free and expiration dates.
I've reached the stage where nobody bothers to look at my driver's license when I want to purchase tickets at senior rates.
And when I'm out of town and I phone my husband at six A.M., and I ring and ring but he doesn't answer the phone, and my first thought is not infidelity but cardiac arrest,
I know that I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where the people with whom I once discussed Marcel Proust are discussing inheritance taxes and living wills.
I've reached the stage where I couldn't leave my house for twenty-four hours unaccompanied by eight different kinds of pills.
And when I have to admit that, offered the choice, I'd - unhesitatingly - give up a night of wilde rapture with Denzel Washington for a nice report on my next bone densitiy test,
I know that I have reached a whole other stage.