Hey, Old Man, I've become you. I stand before you, and above you, looking down at the man who used to feed me, cleanse me, coddle me. And when I grew a little older, protect me, teach me, discipline me. And when I thought I had come into my own, guide me, support me, vaildate me. And when I thought I was a man myself, spar with me, clash with me, then, eventually, push me away. And when I was, in fact, a man, watch me from afar.
But that is the past. Now I am here to watch over you. Up close. Grasp your once-muscular arm, press my hand against your pale, sunken cheeks, hold your shoulder tight when your body spasms. All the while, fearing and despising the passing time. It will soon take you. And someday it will take me. And I am humbled and angered and bewildered that there's nothing I can do to slow down that time. For you. Or me. And I wonder, and worry, about who will stand before, and above, me when the time comes for me to lay down under the relentless crush of age and time. Who will I stare up at? Who will I take comfort in seeing, glimpsing that fading familiar face before time stands still? In that one final moment. When I am gone.
But that is the past. Now I am here to watch over you. Up close. Grasp your once-muscular arm, press my hand against your pale, sunken cheeks, hold your shoulder tight when your body spasms. All the while, fearing and despising the passing time. It will soon take you. And someday it will take me. And I am humbled and angered and bewildered that there's nothing I can do to slow down that time. For you. Or me. And I wonder, and worry, about who will stand before, and above, me when the time comes for me to lay down under the relentless crush of age and time. Who will I stare up at? Who will I take comfort in seeing, glimpsing that fading familiar face before time stands still? In that one final moment. When I am gone.
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