I’m not sure when it began, exactly, but I’ve arrived at that stage of life when you begin to refer to people as “so and so’s grandkid.”

If you haven’t reached this stage yourself, you’re probably familiar with it from experiences with those who are there.

You know, the type who take a look at the midriff shirts that have come back into style and say “what happened to the other half of the shirt?”

I have yet to say it out loud, but noting the price of a “belly sweatshirt” this past weekend, I certainly thought it.

I’m the type who hears about a vehicle hitting a house and immediately remembers a time the same thing happened — same spot, same type of vehicle — 30 years before.

I’m the type who will drive by a building and regale you with the long list of businesses that have come and gone from that building over the years.

This is aging, I know. It’s experiences and acquaintances and the passage of time all coming together in one brain in one body.

And if I’m telling the truth, I don’t mind it, at least not the way I once thought I would.

There’s a song that goes “I still remember when 30 was old.”

And I do ... I think. Or maybe it’s because I’m now parenting someone who thinks that 30 is old and I’m living those years all over again that I think I remember it?

I’m seeing again the excitements and the uncertainties, the hopes and the heartaches.

I’m seeing for the first time just what makes being on the other side so special.

There are still uncertainties and heartaches, sure, but there’s understanding now, years of memories, of experiences and acquaintances. And there’s knowing that so and so’s grandkid is only just beginning the ride.