I didn’t go along with them when they sang ‘I want to die
before I get old.’
But lately I’ve been coming to think that I don’t have the
means or the mentality to be old. I don’t have the family connections to wrap
me in cotton wool, I’m not at all accepting of physical or mental degradation, and I’ve
lived all my life for the seeking of things that old men can’t have.
It seems to me that being old is about being settled –
physically, mentally and emotionally. I would be happy to settle in one spot,
and where I live at the moment seems as good as any – for the moment. But the
rest? No. I’ve always been impulsive, impatient and inquisitive, and I see no
prospect of that changing. So unless I can find something to want that old men
can have, well...
And just in case you’re wondering: no, I haven’t given up
yet.
* * *
While I was typing this, that figure passed across my office
window again. Just as before, the dogs barked prior to my seeing it. And just
as before, there was nobody visible when I went out to check. Maybe it was the
same person whose shadow stood next to mine on the lane the other night. Weird,
eh?
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