The only time I feel old is when I scold at my reflection. I’m still here. I still recognize myself from all those years. Years that are now a series of faded images, resemblances of blurred, limited, photographs in the stead of bright, vivid motion pictures, I used to recall in my mind.
The only time I feel old is when I look at my daughter and I see how much she’s grown. How she is quickly turning into a young lady: feisty like her mother, passionate like her father; gifted all on her own. She’s begun to yearn for independence like all teenagers her age do.
The only time I feel old is when I look at my mother’s hands. Hands that cradled me, comforted me, slapped me, caressed me, stabbed me, steadied me, held me when I was left, clapped for me when I was on stage, held my hand when I crossed the street. My foundation.
The only time I feel old is when I look at the skyline of Los Angeles and marvel at its beauty, while lamenting the change that is stripping it of the memories I created with friends i long ago lost contact with, in places that no longer exist any further.
The only time I feel old is when I see the people I grew up with. Some of us made it, some of us didn’t. Most of us are alive, but very few of us are living. some of us are happy and fulfilled, many of us are still searching.
The only time I feel old is when I realize that i’m almost the age my father was when he died. I ponder on his life and am reminded that their is still so much left to do. So much left to see and experience. I am his legacy. Through me he can live vicariously.
The only time I feel old is when my daughter asks at the slang I use. She thinks i shouldn’t use terminology that my generation creates because it’s just “weird” to hear me say it. dafuq? When did I stop being cool?
The only time I feel old is when I push my body to the limit and it says “fuck you. I don’t work that way!” and I am clearly reminded of my physical limitations. The muscles aches and joint pains that creep every now and then make me long for my childhood.
My soul is eternal but my vessel is wearing out. slowly. surely. eventually. Because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I am grateful for the chance many don’t get: to grow old.
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