Sometimes I think I am a cross between a grandmother and a ten year old. I could not be bothered to be freshly twenty-three. Worshipping the gods of youth by dancing around the fire of my own drunkenness has been wildly deceiving. Jamming out to the lyrics "live fast die young, bad girls do it well", could not be any farther from my present reality. Yet, that does not mean I don't still know how to groove to a steady beat.
We were riding the bus home from the Aquarium.
"Oh good", I said to my friend, "We are not the only adults here."
Blonde haired and bronzed from sports, a young American recognized her native tongue and pipped up like squirrel. It was her last day and she also preferred to spend it admiring dolphins rather than ancient ruins.
"You must be sad to leave Rome", I said. Mistaking as I so often do, other people's feelings to be similar to my own.
"No", she replied. "Not so much leaving Rome. Mostly just leaving him", nodding with her eyes towards her shaved-headed boyfriend.
"He lives in Springfield and I live in St. Louis... They are two hours away."
The music blasting from the speaker located directly above me played a popular tune I was un-aquainted with. The sun was shining directly on the American girl as she mouthed each lyric to the song that had something to do with how all good things come to an end. I thought in that moment that perhaps I was 103 years old.