It's an American coming-of-a-certain-age rite of passage. You turn fifty and you join AARP, right?
For me, it was easy - I'm married to a man five years older than me. The blow of my aging milestones are always softened because David paves the way for me - he shoots through them kicking and screaming so I can glide into them gracefully knowing that it's not the end of the world (until I look in the mirror and realize that I don't quite match up to the image I have of myself in my mind!).
Riding on David's coattails, I've been... CONTINUE READING > >
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