What happens when you're not looking

I am suddenly aware of a generational shift.
This didn't just happen. It's been hugely in the works, but I didn't notice. I was too busy pretending that I was still young...you know, shopping for stilettos, picking out lipstick, pretending that if I knew about one or two cutting edge bands, that I was not quite dead.
With a soul-disturbing epiphany, I am now very keenly aware of my 'station', as it were.

I spent some time with my family recently. Being home is a strange thing. It makes you remember being a kid and where you were on the familial org chart all those years ago. The thing I realized during this family visit is that whilst the people are the same, the assigned roles have most definitely shifted.
My grandmother, grand matriarch of said family, was once the thriving, wisdom-wielding, warrior with a whisper....always actively involved at some capacity. She's now stepped back into the wings and assumed the role that I associate with the great-grandmothers of my youth: a smiling witness, grateful for time-shared, silently generous.
My mother, the hard-working, overly busy, cost-conscious soul I recall is now more of what my grandmother was.....and apparently she has been this way for years and years to her own grandchildren, but I was too busy shifting into my own new role of 'mom' to notice that change in her. Not only did I miss that, I also didn't recognize the tectonic pates shifting under my feet....gliding me out of the role of daughter youngster and into the position of daughter authority figure. Perhaps it's because Mom recently retired. On this visit, I looked in the mirror and saw in my reflection the career busy woman who was worried about making sure the bills got paid. Wow, why didn't I feel that seismic shift happening? I feel like I just recognized that a funnel cloud picked up my house and planted it across the street.....even though the storm hit years ago.

And the kids that are not kids were all around us as another reminder that I am not spritely. They were born back in the days when I was worried about my English Lit grade or on the quest for the perfect seat at the Aerosmith concert or determined to get the perfect tan. They are now college students with jobs and one is even (gulp) married. MARRIED!? They have assumed my old spot on the role call. They look at me as I looked at the adults of my parents' generation. I feel elderly.

To underscore my 'changing role', this week, I have an out-of-town visitor. A young, hip, tiny thing that could stand in for a jewelry box ballerina except for the fact that she has a penchant for black hair dye, eyeliner, and converse high-tops.
Very sweet girl...pleasant company and not at all a representation of the demanding reckless wretches of her generation (that are often featured in modern media.)

We went shopping. I ventured with her into trendy stores that would never even be on my radar. And while that was fun, I can't remember the last time I had to try to find a "size one" anything.

If that wasn't enough to make me feel ancient, we wandered into a Sephora where Miss "Not-wearing-any-makeup-but-ready-for-my-Neutrogena-ad" made me long for the days of scoffing at the concept of moisturizer and other skincare products.

There it is. She's young. I'm not. It is with great sadness that my mental space shifted into this new gear. In actuality, it's not new to anything but my mindset. I'm not sure I approve of aging. Am I supposed to feel graced with wisdom? Comfortable in my skin? Unconcerned about my future? If that is what is supposed to be happening now, I don't feel it.
I still feel like the youngest one in the room so much of the time, but am I REALLY?
While I'm not yet 40, I know that by the time I have figured how to navigate this particular point on the timeline, I'll be completely moved into the next one. I just hope it doesn't whack me upside the head like this one has.