I've been thinking a lot about getting old. I'll be 50 in a few weeks, so it's only right that I start to examine my life a little, where it's going, where it's been. I must say I've never been very good at making big plans for the future, unless it's worrying about it. That I'm good at. No, it's really always been day to day, sometimes week to week, and occasionally month to month. Taking care of the things that come my way. This is not to say I don't have a retirement plan. It just seems to fall into that immediate stuff for me: get a new job, fill out the form for the 401k, done. It's things like "Where do you see yourself in five years? Who would you like to be?" that completely confound me.
I also don't know where to go with the past. I don't long for it, that's for sure, and these days I don't really dwell on it either. Lately, though, I've been getting whiffs of feelings that used to be there. The other night, the wind was soft and balmy. It smelled like spring, even though it's November.
Little pictures flashed through my mind: cut-off shorts, grass clippings, riding a bike hands-free down Winona Street. I think I was in love or in love with the promise of love. What's weird about this memory of a feeling is that it's an image in my mind. I can't really reproduce the actual feeling, but I know that it was there because I can see it. It's like some schmaltzy ad for Tampax or Accidental Death and Dismemberment insurance. (I'm free! I'm young! Look, no hands!) I'm not depressed by this, just curious. Long term memories have become pictures, but short term ones still elicit strong emotions. Like seeing my son give his Heroes of the Past presentation at school. He wore a fake mustache and button-down shirt with a make-shift cravat torn from some satin fabric. He was Tesla, talking about the discovery of alternating currents. God, I was so proud!
I also don't know where to go with the past. I don't long for it, that's for sure, and these days I don't really dwell on it either. Lately, though, I've been getting whiffs of feelings that used to be there. The other night, the wind was soft and balmy. It smelled like spring, even though it's November.
Little pictures flashed through my mind: cut-off shorts, grass clippings, riding a bike hands-free down Winona Street. I think I was in love or in love with the promise of love. What's weird about this memory of a feeling is that it's an image in my mind. I can't really reproduce the actual feeling, but I know that it was there because I can see it. It's like some schmaltzy ad for Tampax or Accidental Death and Dismemberment insurance. (I'm free! I'm young! Look, no hands!) I'm not depressed by this, just curious. Long term memories have become pictures, but short term ones still elicit strong emotions. Like seeing my son give his Heroes of the Past presentation at school. He wore a fake mustache and button-down shirt with a make-shift cravat torn from some satin fabric. He was Tesla, talking about the discovery of alternating currents. God, I was so proud!
I wonder how to keep it all alive. You hear stories, like the old woman who has forgotten who she is and doesn't recognize her own kids, but can tell you in vivid detail about putting lipstick on for the first time and walking down the street, only to have her responsible older brother snatch her up and bring her back home. Maybe that's because she's seeing the pictures in her mind. Speaking of which, I don't like taking pictures. Not just because I'm terrible at it, but because when I do, I can't seem to take in the moment that I'm trying to capture. It's like the physical snapping of the picture replaces the memory picture that my brain naturally takes. I do love photographs, though. I just want someone else to take them.
Where was I? (I believe this may be another sign of aging.) Future, past, present reflections on getting older. I know it's good to be present and focus on the moment, because this is how pictures are formed, but also because this is where the joy is and where the joy will be when you look back. So, where do I want to be in five years? I guess I just want to be right there: listening, seeing, smelling, touching, and tasting with open heart and mind. Taking pictures.
