Sunday, August 17, 2008

My webbed toes don't wiggle any more.

Time was when they were a parlour act, but they are no longer a double jointed wonder.

My ring finger leans intimately against my middle finger.

they are like an old married couple growing ever more fondly together.

I can no longer screw the tops off pop bottles.

Especially after the grandchildren have been around and nonchalantly put a lock on everything they open and close.

The doctor called a small growth on my back a mere bagatelle

I can't remember his exact phraseology, but it included the word 'senile'

Sometimes I smile a lot in the midst of rapid fire conversations

Well, sometimes you don't want to hear everything that's going on.....

Once I picked fruit with aplomb, but now the top of a 12 foot ladder appears to be a dizzying height

and so is the top of the kitchen step-stool

I can remember the music I learned when I was in my early teens and play it passably as long as my brain doesn't get involved

but for the life of me I can't memorize the notes and the phrases and the order they come in

I understand this is all a part of becoming ancient, but I give grateful thanks that there is just a little part of us that never grows old, and I nurture and count it as precious.


Willo said...

Dear, Dear Hildred,
There is heart gripping in reading your words about aging. But going on to the task with the toilet and all of those complications You write with such gentle humor I am all better now.
And I am glad you had help with the job's completion.
Never quit writing. I couldn't bear it. Willo

Hildred said...

Dear Willo,
Thank you for your encouragement. I love to write, but sometimes I feel my subjects are trite and of no interest, so it is good to know someone enjoys them......

And I'm not liable to quit, - it's too much fun!

Hildred said...
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