Thoughts on Aging in Pieces

I’m not aging equally. Two of my toe nails have decided to sprint ahead. Thickening. Yellowing. Ugly.

My not-so-baby face still tricks quite a few. Three and a half decades old they predict. Until they inspect the hairs sprouting unseemly out my nose, foresting my ears, playing connect the brows upon my forehead.

If I let it grow, my beard is silver. It would be distinguished if not for accenting three rolls of chins. Maybe more of a sign of gluttony than aging, but they seem correlated in my case.

Parts of my brain are sharp. Sharper than ever. Especially the lobes responsible for impatience and grumpiness. But there is the grey matter that seems to have faded along with short-term memory. And caring about what others think of me.

I’m not sure what’s next. Perhaps the world will grow another half-inch around me. I had to adjust my drivers license when I renewed it. I’m not sure if I shrunk physically or just came to terms with the truth. I don’t worry too much about it. I just let my belt out a bit, and think of some nerdy dad joke about the conservation of energy. I’d repeat it here, but I don’t recall the punch-line.

I’m not sure how to end this piece. I guess I’m not ready for an ending.


Be well,

Monty