70 IS THE NEW 45 … MAYBE

When Are You Old?

Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s those around you.

Hmmm. Are you sure about all this? Photo by mari lezhava on Unsplash

My bedroom was at one end of the hallway. My parents’ was at the other end. So, while lying in bed, I had a straight shot down the corridor, at their door, and whatever or whomever was in the hall.

And I still remember this vision. Or perhaps it’s best called an apparition.

I was about 15, and was, as usual, reclining in bed looking down the hallway described above. It was early morning. But not so early that my father, a perennial super-early riser, hadn’t already been to the kitchen. He was returning to his room, galumphing down the hall, having just passed my open door. His shuffle caught my ear, making me look up.

Then, all at once, I saw this, all this. It hit my eyeball like a baseball.

A shuffling figure in slippers walking slowly away from me.

His faded, centuries-old bathrobe flapping limply around his dad bod.

A bald spot.

A wicked case of wispy bed head.

A slight stoop.

An ass far wider than mine (even though we were about the same height and weight).