Is age a state of mind?

Arriving for Sunday morning Mass a few weeks back, we parked on the street in a handicapped spot to accommodate my mother who appreciates having shorter distances to walk these days. After placing the blue and white card on the rear view mirror, we made our way carefully out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Behind us pulled up a car from which slowly emerged an elderly gentleman, bent forward due to the press of age and uncooperative bones, I suspect. He even more carefully made his way to the sidewalk – just ahead of us. We walked through the ramp path; he made his way toward the few stairs in front of the large double doors. He seemed happy to have gotten there first. Opening the door for us, he said, “Good morning, kids. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” So full of life at, I would guess, close to 90 years young. My mother smiled and then seemed to walk with just a bit of spring in her careful steps.