A man knows when he is growing old because he begins to look like his father. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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Lately when I look in the mirror what I see is a reflection of my grandparents. I ask myself when did I become them. White hair, bags under the eyes, and a host of other signs happening in my body.
I do find that I am comfortable with the fact that I am the grandfather of three beautiful grandchildren. Yet, they are a reminder that time is passing by. The oldest one is now twelve years old. My best friend tells me he hates standing at the microwave waiting for the timer to reach zero. He declares it is just one more reminder how time is slipping away.
Days seem to morph together, nights seem longer, interests seem to wane. Even the capacity to remember basic things like what happened the day before. I play Mahjong on my computer thinking this will keep my memory sharp.
My mind sometimes wanders into a second world, one where I start to experience the onset of dementia. I have watched my best friend’s mother slip away due to that. Been here when my friend would sit down in my living room and cry after visiting his mom. Nancy Reagan called it “the long goodbye” when speaking about President Ronald Reagan.
So, I sometimes find myself looking for Ponce de León’s fountain of youth. I ask you, how do you feel about growing older?
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