I am afraid of getting older. The thought of obtaining all the physical attributes of seniority is a speed bump. A real eye-opener. I ponder what my lifestyle would be like, then. Things slowing down through physical limitations rather than choice. It’s inevitable, of course. What can a person do? Nothing right?
Although I should say that even if ‘I sense fear’, it isn’t a real fear, not really, but a bewilderment. I’m perplexed on how I will cope. Will I even have the same set of friends when I’m older? A bit macabre, but will my closest friends be gone in the ground? I’m enjoying the way things are. Why must they change?
I imagine myself old.
I’m sitting on a rocking chair on a porch, overlooking a grassy field. Pine trees in the distance clumped together, like green plump teddy bears. The sky is matte gray, overcast. I smell wet dirt on the wind. My eyes absorb the panorama—I realize that I’m alone.
Perplexed about getting old, yes, but at the same time curious. After all, I may not get old. I may pass on before the age when things become golden, as they say. I’m sure I’ll work it out as countless human beings have. Well…some don’t handle it so well.
What I’d like to do, first.
I’m hopeful that I’ll have made solid relationships in my lifetime. I think that’s important. I heard once about someone who was nearing the end, express their regret that they had spent so much time working. He confessed that if he could to do it all over again, he would have spent more time with the people he loved.
How hard it is to prioritize our time!
Ever wonder where the time goes?
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Hehe this post reminds me of my favorite poem: “I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach”