The Line

Some people don’t mind getting older. It’s certainly better than the alternative. Some embrace these changes, basking in all they have accomplished and achieved. They say people are like wine, getting better with age.

I certainly don’t feel that way.

My knees hurt. My back aches. I squint when I’m absorbed in a book, wondering if it’s time for reading glasses.

Every now and then, I find myself thinking about aging. What is it about that process that makes people so sad? Is it facing our own mortality, or fear of losing our relevancy? Is it witnessing our limbs growing tired and not working as well? In a society so obsessed with appearance, is it losing our youthful glow?

Are the chocolate strands on my head slowly turning to white snow? The veins on my hands beginning to show?