Time in a Bottle
2008 08 09
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I think growing up around people skews your ability to see them clearly. Things come as a surprise to you, they creep up on you like phantoms and impart that little dose of reality you were in no fashion prepared to receive.
Sometime last year I needed some help to move something I couldn't move alone, and I just assumed that my uncle would help me as he's always done in the past. This time he refused; not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. He told me, he said, "I'm old." For the first time it hit me that he was. Grey hair and all the things that seem to come with age.
He's old.
How did this happen?
What happened to that youth fixing cars when I was little? What happened to the other gawky youth, his brother, with his shaggy, post-hippy hair? What happened to my thin and pretty aunts? My one aunt turns 60 next year. I remember her so much younger.
Time got away from me. Time's getting to me, as well. Things are changing and I'm realising my mortality. It's not a good feeling.