Living on the Moon

I often joke that living on the Cape is kind of like living on the moon.  It's desolate, at least in the winter. 

Every activity, every group I sign up for is inundated with people over seventy. And it's not like I can complain - I am the minority. The what is wrong with this picture? I am the thing to be circled because it doesn't (I don't) fit.

I don't consider myself an agist, my Gram, who just died at the age of 97, was one of my best friends.  I have always had an affinity for the wise.  I get angry when someone doesn't treat the young-at-heart with love and kindness and respect.  But I also need interaction with people my age: the not-quite-wise-enough set.

I was well aware of the state of affairs but I didn't know it had gotten to this: you know things have gone awry when the yoga class you want to do is at the Senior Center (and you consider going anyway).

Have I acclimated myself to seventy?

I suppose it could be worse - it's not like I have fallen in with a bad crowd.

Would they even let me in?