I Remember...

When I was in school, I learned that what looks like a bug was called an exoskeleton.  I don't know what kind of bug this was, but it shed its skin and became something brand new. 

Really, it stayed the same on the inside, but it's outer shell was new.  I guess because yesterday was the last official day of summer, I started to think about changes and changing. 

As I age, I have started to think about how things have changed.  I suddenly understand the "old folks" talking about the way things used to be.  I really do remember when I was little playing outside by myself, even as it got dark.  I walked to the store alone when I was 4.   My mother never had to worry about where I was or if I was safe.  We could sleep out on the porch on hot summer nights, and not lock the door, waiting for the cool desert breezes to flit in and out, and it was safe.

I remember the first computer that I ever saw took up an entire room.  Cards flew out of it, and these cards were read by specialists covered from head to toe in gowns that reminded me of doctors.  They even wore masks!  Now, I hold a computer in my lap, and there are no cards to read.

I remember the days that were fun and free.  When I was in college, my nickname was  "Butterfly" because I flitted around campus from person to person and task to task.  I remember my first job after college and how different the working world was from the world I enjoyed in college.

I remember my friends from high school and college, and I'm grateful that I have been able to reconnect with so many of them on Facebook.  They've made my life better and more fulfilled. 

I remember feeling invincible!  That was a wonderful feeling.  I no longer feel that way.  I'm settling into my "older age" and noticing the obituaries now.  I see people younger than me who die of natural causes.  I am shocked that I have lived this long. 

I wonder how much longer I will live.  I hope that there will be enough time left to shed more exoskeletons.  I look forward to the changes, the wrinkles, (not really), the joy of looking back and seeing those exoskeletons shed one by one.  Soon, I'll be saying, "Sonny, I remember when..."  There goes another exoskeleton.