There is so much to be afraid of, this growing old thing. This morning I saw a picture of a friend from many years ago. She looked old, the same brilliant smile, now in faded pastels. I wonder what she would think if she saw my picture, what we would say if we met.
It is not the memories that matter, it is what is not remembered and lost. At random moments, a quiet clue will prompt some connection to a bygone event. A previous adventure or former lover will rush to the foreground to claim moments of my time with moments past, only to fade again into the dark.
Mortality does not scare me, from dust to dust. Losing all the photos I've carefully kept would be a disappointment. What scares me most is losing the way to new friends and adventures. Maybe looking back gets in the way of looking forward.
Still, it is pleasant to remember the streets I've lived on and the wonderful things that happened there.
Make my day, tell a friend about this blog!
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