Aches, pains, strains, heavy hearts, blurry minds, fuzzy vision, dimming hearing, and realizing that there’s not much you can do about any of it… except fight every single day to stay healthy and strong.
I think that sometimes we all feel waaaaay older or waaaay younger than we really are. Oddly, I’m pragmatic enough at this moment to feel like I fit my age exactly.
Once more it is June. Again. And again I embark upon that epic effort of daily blogging, take three, wherein I call upon myself for a kind of rambling focus, picking from a list of daily topics, and with neither planning nor advance writing, strive to pepper this blog with the free-thought, free-writing wonder that is another one of Those 30 Posts in June. Today, that post just happens to be:
June 4th // Something You Have Seen
I was abruptly reminded today –yet again– that age is a cruel companion that creeps upon you in the dark hours and leaves you lingering upon the relentless tides of time. I’d forgotten my glasses at home, and realized it when I was pulling out my phone, while sitting there on the train lacking any honest hope of going back home to get them and still get to work at a reasonable hour.
Not a huge problem: I keep an extra pair at the office. But when I was returning home later this afternoon, contemplating what to write for this post, it occurred to me that what I’d seen today was a bit of a blur.
I’d not made much of a stink about it here. The effects of going from a guy who used to brag about his 20-20 vision to just another desk jockey with an ocular astigmatism who needs a pair of prescription progressive bifocals to get through the day… well, I’ve never really sat down and wrote about that now have I?
But there it is. Suddenly –or maybe not so suddenly– I’m that guy who wears glasses, gets sore joints, strains a little more to hear soft spoken voices and (I suppose, thankfully is just now) seriously starting to wonder when my hairline is going to start its inevitable retreat.
Life becomes a bit of a blur.
Life becomes a bit of a blur, something not quite as in focus as when I was ten years younger. The inevitability of age, my eyes being the first of those senses to betray me if only because I’ve mistreated them so for the last so many years of staring into the pale glow of a long progression of computer monitors.
Without my glasses, life is now literally a bit of a blur. And on those days when I –still hesitant to embrace my ever-incrementing age and the failing sense that come with it– forget my glasses on the kitchen counter, that blur, both literal and metaphorical, is something I’ve seen all day long.