I look old. I feel old. I sound old. I'm old. Yesterday it hit me.
Children's safety is more of my concern, than their fun. It could simply be a product of caring and the turmoil of the times, but it feels different. I brace for falls and I've grown past the "rub some dirt on it," phase of macho childcare. I worry about what might happen, much more than what does happen. I plan.
I forget when speaking to coworkers, especially those younger female ones, that I am not seeing what they are seeing. I do not mean this sexually, but in context of connecting to situations we share. I've always worked better with women than I have with me, not for any reason other than I believe, whether I'm right or wrong, that I view things from a more motherly angle than the paternal views. I don't coddle, but I listen. Men don't listen the same way women do. I know that now. I respect 19-25 year old women now, much more than I do others, but the realization my views were different when I was 19-25 bothers me. I can't go back and can't make others move forward. I think I'm old enough to realize now, nobody cares about my life experiences.
Shooting hoops, I go hot and missed people noticing. The kids expected me to do it, because I'm old. The staff didn't care. They glance at their phones, each other or connect with the kids. I was trying to connect by showing I still can. Hours later, I popped ibuprofen, while those who share my title, started their fun. I was in bed by 8:30. My dinner cooking probably was their first two rounds. My nighttime companion much less affection once fed. I'm OK with that part, but do realize the void.
We all with we knew then what we know now, but I wonder at times how I'd have used it. I envy my coworker's youth, their fitness, their style, their intellect, their open eyes and yes, their beauty. I guess what makes me feel old is the knowledge that my wisdom comes from shortcomings, pain and failure, while I envy their hopes, dreams and desires. I look in their faces to see the glow I once had, while my reflection shows the affects of time, like furniture left out over a harsh winter.
I wake earlier and retire earlier. My life more like those close to twice my age. My best friend is a cat. My entertainment is a book, movie or ballgame. Hell, I used the term ballgame, sounding more like my grandmother than my mother. I look to the kids to keep me young and they do. They then run and skip away, as I shuffle, limp and hobble. Looking forward to my bed, before the sun has even set, all for another day surrounded by those who look at my age and can not fathom time in that sense. Some with half their lives to reach this point. Some with much much more.
I'm closer to the end of my life than many are to reaching my age. I'm old. I know it, and I feel it.
Children's safety is more of my concern, than their fun. It could simply be a product of caring and the turmoil of the times, but it feels different. I brace for falls and I've grown past the "rub some dirt on it," phase of macho childcare. I worry about what might happen, much more than what does happen. I plan.
I forget when speaking to coworkers, especially those younger female ones, that I am not seeing what they are seeing. I do not mean this sexually, but in context of connecting to situations we share. I've always worked better with women than I have with me, not for any reason other than I believe, whether I'm right or wrong, that I view things from a more motherly angle than the paternal views. I don't coddle, but I listen. Men don't listen the same way women do. I know that now. I respect 19-25 year old women now, much more than I do others, but the realization my views were different when I was 19-25 bothers me. I can't go back and can't make others move forward. I think I'm old enough to realize now, nobody cares about my life experiences.
Shooting hoops, I go hot and missed people noticing. The kids expected me to do it, because I'm old. The staff didn't care. They glance at their phones, each other or connect with the kids. I was trying to connect by showing I still can. Hours later, I popped ibuprofen, while those who share my title, started their fun. I was in bed by 8:30. My dinner cooking probably was their first two rounds. My nighttime companion much less affection once fed. I'm OK with that part, but do realize the void.
We all with we knew then what we know now, but I wonder at times how I'd have used it. I envy my coworker's youth, their fitness, their style, their intellect, their open eyes and yes, their beauty. I guess what makes me feel old is the knowledge that my wisdom comes from shortcomings, pain and failure, while I envy their hopes, dreams and desires. I look in their faces to see the glow I once had, while my reflection shows the affects of time, like furniture left out over a harsh winter.
I wake earlier and retire earlier. My life more like those close to twice my age. My best friend is a cat. My entertainment is a book, movie or ballgame. Hell, I used the term ballgame, sounding more like my grandmother than my mother. I look to the kids to keep me young and they do. They then run and skip away, as I shuffle, limp and hobble. Looking forward to my bed, before the sun has even set, all for another day surrounded by those who look at my age and can not fathom time in that sense. Some with half their lives to reach this point. Some with much much more.
I'm closer to the end of my life than many are to reaching my age. I'm old. I know it, and I feel it.
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