Age is made a monster by many

A pondering on age

Poem

I’m at the age where I kind of understand golf

but I’m young enough to still hate it.

When I hear the word party now

I assume nobody is dancing

other than the laughter

and the eagerness to leave.

My bedtime took up skydiving.

I’ve started looking at midnight

the way one might see a ghost.

My knees creak like a haunted house.

All of my dreams have mildew.

People are starting to become too people,

the world is a little too outside,

home is still where the heart is

but it’s also where I keep my favourite things.

Like peace and all of my puzzle books.

I bought my first pair of slippers,

and now I can’t live without them.

My new favourite sport is

falling asleep in a chair

and seeing how long it is

before somebody thinks I’m dead.

My record is four hours.

I’m three cardigans away

from a woollen sweater vest.

I see the commercials with people

running through fields

and my bones evaporate into dust.

Last week, it took me fifteen minutes

to get out of bed.

Honestly,

I just want to lie here in the dark.

Bring me a pipe and the newspaper.

Tell everybody you don’t know where I am.

Confessional

Age is made a monster by many, yet I have never subscribed to the idea that it is a determinant. By society's standards, I am likely miles behind. Mid-thirties, still trying to figure out how to navigate this world and keep my family fed. I am far from stable in many ways. The pressure of age only makes things harder, but if we start comparing milestones, then we are always going to be left in the dark. There are a number of days when I wish I had more. There isn’t a desire for riches, but for an easing. To be able to afford flights to see family or take a long-deserved break. We all progress in our own time and flower only when we are ready, and you cannot rush that process. I love birthdays. The age event surrounding it doesn’t factor into my brain, but instead, I just believe everybody deserves a day for themselves at minimum. A birthday is just a mechanism to allow somebody to be celebrated. To allow you to let go and indulge. I don’t think about the mountain I am climbing or how far along I have come; instead, I just look forward to being a little freer. I am ready for the house with the porch swing and the Sunday morning routine. I am ready to write books in winter and miss publisher deadlines, and that’s the nearness that I think about. Not the ‘I am nearly 40’ fear or how much other people my age already have. I am excited to get older. Older seems to be more comfortable and demand less. You get comfortable within yourself and really start appreciating home. I also think I’d rock the grey hair. If you are one of the people who fear age or think of it as something that defines you, all I can say is that it doesn’t. Make your heart your hometown hero and be inspired by it. That beating in your chest tells you you’re alive, not that you’re 30 years alive or 65 years alive, just alive. Just living. Just here being who you are. Find the joy and forget the technicalities. There is nothing you are too old for, and you can still learn anything. I have to be gentler with myself about where I am in my field, and I have to start living more. Shall we do it together? Grab a cheap ticket to a random show, or go to an event you know nothing about, and just take in the experience. Even if it is terrible, laugh about it on the way home and realise that the laughter was worth the admission. Try a new genre of music live, and if you still don’t enjoy it, know you tried something new. Most importantly, be young; you will only age if you let yourself.

Make your heart your hometown hero and be inspired by it.

As always, keep kind and stay true Woofenberry x