When I'm Sixty-Four

After church last Sunday, Travis said, "You looked really nice today."

"Thanks!"

"You don't look thirty."

"Oh? How old do I look?"

He studies me for a minute ...

"I'd say 25."

"Oh. Cool."

"Well, actually probably 26."

"There's a difference between looking 25 and looking 26?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, it's just different."

I shouldn't be surprised at the splitting of hairs by a man who calls me from the bus to tell me to pick him up at about 6:42, but I always like to hear the thought process that runs through his head. However, when I'm sixty-four, he'd better tell me I look like I'm forty-seven and not fifty.