I have officially become an old person. I realized this last evening when a grand daughter and her boyfriend came to dinner.

Dinner itself, chicken Alfredo, was a hit, delicious and decadent.

After the meal we sat around talking about their trip to Europe with the college they attend. They leave this week. My husband and I recounted some adventures we had had on our trips abroad.

About the third story it occurred to me that we had told these stories before, perhaps at a Christmas or Thanksgiving family get-together. I wondered how many times we might have told these stories. And then I hoped that they were similar in detail at each telling.

Gratefully, my grand daughter has been raised to extend grace to others and sat attentively listening. Only once, when I asked her directly had I told her this story before, did she admit that she had heard it before. She did not say how many times.

And so age has taken its toll.

Seemingly though, after living so many decades one would think that a person would have a larger arsenal of life events to pull from when making sparkling conversation. Apparently not.

And that's what I think about it.