Waking Up Older

I was talking with a friend yesterday and somewhere in the conversation we both realized that we have more years behind than in front of us. It was staggering, invigorating, and led to today’s draft. (And the side realization that there is a paucity of images of middle-aged folk on Unsplash.)

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI have more of my life behind me than I do in front. I know it to be true and yet my body rejects the idea, rejects the idea behind the idea:That therefore I must hunker in and rest. I must gather what I can and hold it stingily around me. I must brace myself against change because my resources are few and my value is diminishing. I must hoard. I must not hoard but give away everything, all of it. The objects, the books, the knowledge, the obligations and the assumptions. Give it all away and let it fall gently upon whichever hands take it up. I take just enough space to sit at a window and write. To eat in comfort and cook with ease, to sleep well in the soft darkness, to bathe myself and lovingly care for this body even as it breaks down, breaks apart, melts into nothingness. This is what I need.