Old Age

Old age appeared like a puff of grey smoke. She thought I wasn’t paying attention. Indeed I was not paying her much attention. I was nursing my baby Fira in the dark and strategically holding a cellphone, watching Netflix, so I wouldn’t disturb her with the light. The show was on mute but I was engrossed, ignoring my senses.

Old Age poked her head in, slid in. At first she was meek and shy moving about. It reminds me of when you open your friends door to her house and call out. No one answers but you walk in anyway checking each room to see if your friend is there, seeing how she has decorated and adorned each room.  This is Old Age. She spent the early days investigating the new space. Seeing what I have done with the place.

Three years later she has made herself comfortable on the couch. I think Old Age is in pajamas. Hanging out. Waiting to get called into action. She is leaving dishes around the place, not vacuuming or picking up her things. It is getting a bit annoying. I have not asked her to clean up. I pretend she isn’t there right now. Soon though. We need to talk and take action.  Her presence reminds me that things are going to change soon.

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