… Informal Inquiries: A poem for a summer morning in the late autumn of life.
I am still sometimes surprised to realize I am old. I guess because, in my head, I am still who I have long thought of myself as being, like an appliance that has been around so long and used so routinely one doesn't notice the scuffs and dents.
I am likewise surprised about being old. I look in a mirror, and I wonder, "Who the hell is that?" I go to the doctors' appointments, and I think, "I don't belong here with all these sick people." My Swiss-cheese memory leads me to believe I am in my 30s rather than my 70s. Is that kind of confusion common? I wonder.
ReplyDelete