Something About Growing Old

The days pass so quickly now that I

I rarely bother to name them. Every

day seems the same. The months, the

years and I grow old together. The

calendar flips month after month in

rapid-fire succession. Sometimes I

forget to advance the pages, and it

remains May three months in a row.

My checkbook, no longer used much

anymore, is the only thing around my

place which needs to know what year

it is. If a young person were to ask me

what it’s like to be old? I would answer,

the brittle bones and aching joints know.

My brain may have forgotten your name,

but guaranteed, it always remembers the

pain. What I miss most, though, is having

weekends and holidays to look forward to.

Nowadays, I rely upon my son calling me

on the phone in the middle of the day.

It is then I know, he’s on one of his days

off and at home. Then I too fell free to

relax and take a nap. Anyway, young folks

these days don’t care to know what it’s

like to grow old. No matter. Fleeting hours,

days, months and years, phases of the moon,

I’d say, three straight months of May, then

June...I think?

-30-

Chris Hanch 1-22-2020