The Downside

Lately, every visit with my parents seems to remind me that they are getting old.  They're not just getting old; they’re turning into old people.  I mean, they’re not decrepit.  But it’s just a fact of life -  there are more aches and pains, the gray strands of hair finally outnumber the non, and sometimes it's too cold to go out.  And then there are other moments that cause me to worry because, well, they’re on the downside of the hill. 

Like when I was home at Thanksgiving and I found my mom sitting at the computer without her pants on.  Mentally, I went through my Dr. Oz-certified Alzheimers’ checklist:  did she forget to put her pants on?  Does she know she’s not wearing pants?  Does she know how to put pants on?  Does she know what pants are?  I stated the obvious first, “Mom, you don’t have any pants on!”  Now, my mom's far from having dementia or Alzheimers so she was well aware of her pantsless outfit.  I forget why she didn't have pants on but I'm sure there was a reasonable explanation.  The explanation isn't important.  What’s important is that she knew she wasn't wearing pants.  So hooray, my mother isn't suffering from dementia.  But she is getting old and I’m starting to worry about the stuff that happens to parents when they turn into old people. 

I’m starting to worry about when they’re not here anymore. 

I’m starting to worry about being left behind. 

So, there’s all that.  Then there are all the family and friends who seem to be going through major life changes recently – engagements, babies, Facebook relationship status updates.  They’re all moving forward in their lives.  And here I am stuck in a rut in a holding pattern.  A rut pattern of my own making, I completely admit.  A rut pattern that I can’t seem to get out of. 

Everyone’s getting older, everyone’s moving forward, and me? 

I’m starting to worry about being left behind.

I’m starting to worry about never catching up. 

But most of all, I’m starting to worry that there won’t be anyone to worry about me when I’m on the downside of that hill and not wearing any pants.

Things Remembered

Sometimes opening a box can take you back to the people and places of long ago memories.  And before you know it, you're remembering...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes I remember Catholic school copybooks and public school notebooks.   

Sometimes I remember the house with the ugly green door and first beers and jumping out of a window just to walk back in the front door for kicks.

Sometimes I remember the summer of Sun-In and the autumn of burnt orange hair.

Sometimes I remember baseball games and an Action News interview that went horribly awry.

Sometimes I remember midnight runs and Chinese fire drills and ice cream at Friendly’s.

Sometimes I remember gifts from the heart.

Sometimes I remember games of Punch Buggy that hurt like hell.

Sometimes I remember the ridiculousness of SoCo.  And now when I say I live in HoCo, I cringe a little. 

Sometimes I remember the morning I found out why it was so funny that I went to a school called Beaver.

Sometimes I remember walking down the boardwalk talking with really bad British accents.

Sometimes I remember games of “would you still be my friend if I…walked like this, talked like this, looked like this?” 

Sometimes I remember Mickey and Donald and Goofy too. 

Sometimes I remember two girls; one brash and bold and the Great; the other quiet and timid, with none of the self-assurance then to proclaim herself anything near great.

Sometimes I remember.  And I wonder…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes you have to close the box and put away the memories.