Now that I am no longer a child, but supposedly an adult (I turn 37 this month), I have actual memories.
What I mean by this is that I can remember distinct parts of my life as stories with beginnings middles and ends, rather than just “everything when I was a kid” and “now”, which was the case before.
This is, I suppose, a sign of advancing age. The memory I had today was of using the phone we had when I was a kid, a beige rotary phone with the curly cord that got tangled, no answering machine, and rang with an actual bell. It was very heavy.
And I thought.. wow. That object doesn’t even exist in a world where I’m a system administrator doing maintenance on a web server at 3 in the morning via my wireless networked laptop hooked up to DSL.