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Thursday, 28 November 2013

Man in the Mirror




 Is that old man staring back really me? Time really flies as the saying goes.  Funny, I don’t feel old at all, but am seventy-three years old.

How could my face have gotten so wrinkled without me noticing it? All these years I have been looking in the mirror, seeing a younger man. What made today so different to make me observe these changes? Maybe my beloved Martha has something to do with that. Fifty-one years of marriage today, and she still tells me how handsome I look. I guess I feel the same about her too. She is just as beautiful now as when I met her.

Look how thin my hair has become. It used to be so thick and dark, now I can use my hand to keep it in place. My face is so tanned and lined from working outdoors in the sun. All those years of struggling in the hot sun, trying to make a living from farming have rewarded me with wrinkles and aged spots. I earned every one too.

 It was not an easy life, but I endured the hardships and welcomed the good times. Those are not wrinkles around my mouth, but laugh lines, caused by the happiness of having a family. This is the face of a man who has weathered the four seasons reasonably well, despite disappointments and regrets. I have seen the ravages of war and survived. Friends and loved ones have passed on.

Age is a number. There is still the feel of youthful vigor in my body. Sure, I may not walk as briskly as before, but I am not slow either. Nowadays, I just prefer to move at my own pace. Why does everyone rush so much? My body is no longer as finely toned as it used to be, but I think I’m in better shape than some of the young men I see on the streets. They are all booze and belly. Martha does not complain about the romance, or lack of it, which is often the case these days. Holding hands can be so sentimental.

Ah, yes, Jake, my friend, is staring at me from the mirror. It is you who are the elderly one, not me. There is still a lot of energy left in this man, and life was meant for living, so I’ll not waste precious minutes looking at you. I have places to explore and new things to do before the breath leaves my body. When did the time past me by?
                                       
Image courtesy of wikimediacommons.org