Olden Days

I am turning fifty this year and I've been thinking a lot about what this means. First of all, it means that all of my childhood traumas are ancient history. Not that the scars and pain are gone, that may never happen, but the events were fifty years ago! As I used to say to my mom, "When you were a kid was it the olden days?" My picture of my parents' and grandparents' time was that everything was in sepia tones and horses carried milk in wagons over the cobblestones. A few years ago my biological father gave me an old photo album. I looked through it, not recognizing anyone. In one photo, I pointed at a baby carriage. "Hey, look at that antique baby carriage." It was made of wicker. But then I had to laugh, because wasn't an antique, it was what they looked like back then!