Growing old

Being called a 'grown-up' has been something which all of us craved for as a kid. Attending family functions where people said, 'She is growing tall', 'She looks lovely', or simply that now 'She is working' would make me happy. More than the words, it is the emotions which come along, which normally work for me. A case in point could be the glint of pride in my father's eyes when he told his friends that his daughter is now a 'journalist'. But something that happened yesterday has left me pensive.
If you look at it, it's not really a big deal. But, I didn't like it and that is what is significant. So, here goes the incident.
I was in the train (Yes yet again. I am telling you it is the recurring motif in my life). An old lady sat next to me. And there was a young boy who sat right opposite to me. This boy must be 12 or 13. He just asked me which was the station that passed by. I replied. To which the lady asked me, "Is he your son?"
I sheepishly and trying hard to placate my fury said, "He's not with me."
A small incident. May be I will get over it, within a few hours. But the fact that I do suffer from selective amnesia and do forget the things which I should remember, I wrote it down. (Was she right? Am I really growing old?)
Also, at that jiffy, I didn't like it. And so, it has to find a mention in my blog. After all, it is a part of my world. Isn't it? :-)

Manjiri