I’m sitting in a coffee shop, an old haunt from way back. At another table there’s a group of folks laughing, enjoying each other’s company. There’s the usual laptop warriors and sneaked out for a cake crowd. And me. In a corner nursing my oat-milk flat white, observing. Truthfully; I feel like a ghost, feel all of my 58 years are a memory of another time. I used to be in one of those small town groups, but time separates us, events move us along and this is no longer my world. Not anymore. But that’s fine, I see joy, I see happy faces and so what if they don’t see me? I don’t remember seeing me when I was them. I have a new world now, it’s my turn to be the elder and that’s okay. I’ve earned it, I’m more than ready.