The loner doesn’t have the usual markers to teach him how to
grow old. There is no life partner to grow old with. There is no career ladder
to climb until you reach the point at which you retire and get off, thereby
gaining closure. There is no intimate family environment in which your position
develops securely and naturally until you become the patriarch.
I reached the age of thirty two when I was about seventeen,
and I’ve been thirty two ever since. The mirror tells me differently; my
muscles, tendons, ligaments and organs tell me differently; the weight of
experience sitting on my shoulders, and gained mostly through observation rather
than commitment, tells me differently. But they confuse me because I’m still
thirty two. It’s the one rock I’ve carried with me along the stream, and I
don’t know how to throw it away.
2 comments:
When my grandmother was ninety she told me she never aged mentally past thirty-eight years and always got a shock when she looked in the mirror or when people treated her like an old lady. My mother, on the other hand, remained thirty-nine, and I'm still in my thirties somewhere. And my husband said last week that he still feels that he's eighteen! He certainly acts like a teenager sometimes.
n.
... and a day will probably come when you and bloke (I love that Aussie expression) will pass a certain point, and your daughter will start addressing you in a patronising manner. Or maybe not.
So, it seems that even people possessed of the markers have difficulty knowing how to grow old. I suppose that's a relief of sorts.
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