Every old person you see was once young and reckless and sure they had forever. Be nice to them; they’re you with spoilers.

Age is not a separate species you will somehow never join. The man taking forever at the register was once late to a party, broke, sure of himself, in love with somebody who did not text back. Nothing has happened to him that is not already scheduled for you. Once that lands properly, patience stops being a virtue you perform and starts being obvious.

Pick one older person you see regularly and ask them something real: what they were doing at your age, what they wish they had kept. Let them take as long as they want answering. You are reading ahead in your own book.