GLOUCESTER CITY, NJ (May 28, 2018)-- Being of a certain age, some of my parts need replacing. I’m not speaking of cosmetic enhancements—although the thought has occurred to me more than once in my lifetime—I’m talking about parts that have worn out and let me know in not-so-subtle ways that they’re tired of my shenanigans.
My hips, for example, used to allow me to sashay about, letting folks know I was a serious contender on the cat walk. Now, they hold my legs in a vice-like grip, allowing only a step or two before they pinch me. And, they make a kind-of crunching sound as I move about.
I once had the bluest of blue eyes. I know they’re considered the window into the soul, but I have to say that now, they resemble the windows on an abandoned store front.
And how about those knees? I used to jump hurdles, climb fences, and escape through windows (long story)! These days, my Frankenstein-like walk combined with the groaning sounds I sometimes make, have children grabbing for their mothers’ hands, and the scraping sounds of bone on bone drown out their terrified screams. Fortunately, my eyesight is so dim that I can’t see the terror on their wee little faces.
Between the crunching, groaning, and scraping sounds I give off, people know I’m coming for a visit before I even ring the doorbell.
I’m not really complaining; pieces of me are tired because I used them for hard work, carrying babies, raising kids, caring for my mother, and tending to pets. If any of my parts quit functioning altogether, at least they were well-worn during a life well-lived. And for that, I am grateful.