So it goes. The time flows, sand drifting on shores, sifting through fingers. One day you’re in your twenties and next thing you know, you’re peering into the faces of those around you. When did they grow old? And then it hits harder, they are you. Their faces reflect your age: the gray, the wrinkles, the age spots, crooked teeth and puffy cheeks. They are Me!
I sit and think if I had been away for years, then reunited with old friends and family, I would cling on to some familiarity, but be astounded by the aging process. It would be like pressing a fast forward button and going from 20 to 60 in warp speed. Who are these strangers? They are Me!
The years will keep on, and our features will morph once again. Even though I see everyone all the time and I see my face in the mirror every day, I wonder how someone from our past would really interpret us today? I remember seeing a cousin over thirty years after we attended a wedding together. She was almost unrecognizable. But in her, I saw my aunt who had passed years ago. This cousin had our family features in her face, and I only remembered the relatives in the age my cousin was then. It was weird.
Age is weird. In this moment, I have no age. Only when I confront it in a hip tweak or my slower gait, stiffer joints, and the older face in the mirror – only then do I claim an age. After all, it was only yesterday that I thought life went on, “forever young”.