The winter season, when it gets dark so early seems to be the best for this kind of conversation.
I start with my children. I ask what was the first death they heard about.
First they lift their eyes from their iPads, surprised, as if they don’t know what
I’ve noticed that with each grey hair, people take me more seriously. And for the first time ever, I have felt that my age really does give me some advantage. I am not talking about people giving up their seat for me on the tram or the bus – that would be alarming – but the first symptoms have started to appear.
Just yesterday, when I was saying more or less the same thing as today, I was interrupted more often and people were less willing to listen. But now this has changed. As if the mere fact that I am now 40 automatically makes me speak from experience, or as if I had something important and interesting to say. As if now that I am older, I am also wiser. And yet, logically, the opposite should be true – after all, we lose brain cells as we age.
