For some reason, I started doing some math the other day. I’m not sure what prompted it because I am not one to randomly break out and decide to solve math problems. But I did the other day. And the math I did was more mind blowing than any equation or word problem thrown at me during school. I decided to figure out how old I was when my mom was the same age I am now.

It’s not something I often think about because my mom’s age has always been, well, mom’s age. You know, that unattainable age that always will be slightly out of reach. It’s not that my mom was necessarily old, just always older than me. But that is obviously a false notion because I am now catching up. And that is the part that is blowing my mind.

You see, after doing some math and repeating it several times to ensure I didn’t make a mistake, I figured out when mom was my age I was 19. It was 1992 and I was in my first year of college. College. I was in college when my mom was 51. Looking back at 1992, how can I seem so old and my mom seem so young? Back in 1992, I’m pretty sure I thought the exact opposite on both counts.

I mean, how could I be in my last year of being an official teen 32 years ago? For Pete’s sake, I was a voting-age-adult. Shouldn’t I have been much younger 32 years ago because when I do that math I should be much younger than I am. Because that nasty-math is telling me I am old now.

By the same token, 32 years ago mom should have been older. She should have been momma age. But here we are. The same age.

Of course, she had been married nearly 30 years with four kids and 2 grandkids at the time. While me, I have traveled around the world and ended up right back in the same spot.

We took two very different roads but somehow ended up in the same place.

Pretty sure I won’t be doing anymore math like that for a while.