I was loading up kiddos into our car while two white-haired older ladies walked by in their pastel-colored pants and matching striped shirts. I couldn't help but overhear them:
"Yeah, I think I was at my Zumba class when I lost it. I had stuck it in my bra and couldn't find it afterward."
(Did she just say Zumba?!)
"Yeah" her friend answers dryly, "Usually that place is such a treasure chest. That's too bad."
Funnier comeback than anything I would have said.
I felt a surge of hope. Maybe we portray senior citizenship a certain way, and all the while people are sassier, funnier and more vibrant than we give them credit for.
Maybe those polyester peach pants are just there to throw us off until we're qualified to join the club.