Bicycling away from my Florida golf course, I found myself surrounded by guys my age also pedaling bicycles as we headed home in a swarm after a morning round of golf.

Within the pack of spinning wheels, I flashed back to 1966 when I was in sixth grade, pedaling home with my buddies at the end of the school day. I had to smile, finding the effects of time on us humorous. Having once spent so many youthful Saturdays on endless bicycling adventures, now we’re all in our 60s, 70s, and 80s! It was an odd return to childhood while remaining older, and not the only instance of such age regression we experience in life.

As my aging compadres peeled off onto the side streets where they lived, just like we used to as kids after a long day of exploration, my curious mind wandered to aging’s tendency to return us to earlier phases of life, and on a more concerning note, sometimes even to the helplessness of infancy in our final years.

This phenomenon brought to mind F. Scott Fitzgerald’s unique little novel, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.”

Fitzgerald’s story was published in 1922 and made into a 2008 movie starring Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett.

Benjamin Button (Brad Pitt) is born a little old man, wise far beyond his years. He is shunned by society as a freak, until his physicality adapts for a time to normalcy as his age proceeds from old to young. He becomes a handsome young man and falls in love. Yet he grows ever younger as the love of his life (Cate Blanchett) ages in the opposite direction.

Benjamin eventually becomes a child at the end of his life, dependent on others, the not uncommon result of the normal aging process. In the movie, it is a love story with a fascinating, thought-provoking twist.

On the bright side, one phase of age regression can bring a wonderful freedom, as expressed in that ditty describing “Seenagers,” senior citizens who can now live the life of a carefree teenager.

The popular epigram is humorous, and also contains some truth. It's another example of how aging regresses, paralleling Benjamin Button.

Seenagers have everything they wanted as a teenager, only 60 years later. For instance, as a Seenager, I don't have to go to school or work; I get an allowance every month; I have my own pad; I don’t have a curfew; I have a driver's license and my own car.

The people I hang around with are not scared of getting pregnant, and they do not use drugs (unless prescribed, of course); I don’t have acne; if I get lost, someone sends out an alarm; if I fall down, my mother watch asks if I’m okay and calls for help if I need it. Conversations with my peers are full of interesting life experiences, and every day is recess or shop class.

“Seenage” years can be a wonderful phase of age reversal, though it’s clear evidence my peers and I are heading down the same road as Benjamin Button, facing possible loss of physical independence one day. Many of us have seen it in our own parents and others.

Realizing the window of age is slowly closing encourages us to appreciate every moment, to savor the company of good people and the world around us, especially since the window could abruptly let loose, slamming closed at any moment.

We seenagers focus on ages in the obituaries. We know exactly where we stand.

The fortunate among us realize that every day is a gift, a day to pick up that book, learn a musical instrument, take a painting class, tie-dye that t-shirt and wear it to a beach concert, plant a garden, spend time in a library, attend the theater, take a walk, or pedal that bicycle.

And now’s the time to meet friends for dinner on a beach at sunset, a remarkably peaceful, healing, even spiritual moment. There’s something humanly cosmic in bidding goodnight to a sun that allows for our very survival, its origin beyond comprehension.

Everything’s more beautiful when you know Benjamin Button waits in the shadows.

John Steward lives in Waterford. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com.