In the episode Aging is Awesome? we talked about the strangeness of this middle time in our lives. It made me think of someone very dear to me and think about my current context in the timeline of my life. I wrote a poem for this space. Because sometimes feelings are best described in figurative language.
When I say I am old
I am not old in the way the world informs the word.
Ready to be thrown away for a newer thing.
Old like milk, like faded wallpaper in a dusty room.
I am old like the woods is old.
I am old like the water in caves underground.
I am old like a soul learning it’s worth.
Older not yet elder.
I know my way and remember the ways I have walked.
I feel them in my knees and hips and hands.
Paths to come will mark me further.
I am old like the memories of migration in birds.
I am old like the longest night in winter
I am old like the sound of leaves falling.
I am old like a lullaby hummed by your mother as you lay sleeping.
Not yet a grandmother but old enough to know what my hands will look like,
when I hold my daughter’s daughter
Old enough to know that I don’t know.
Old enough to know what I know.
Old enough to remember the chemical love of youth,
and prefer the nuanced love of age.
Caroline for the solstice 12/22/20
Saraline Speaks 