9th December, 2017

These are the last few minutes of today. Today is my granddaughter’s first birthday. Me, I’m 59 which, I guess, makes me nearly old. It’s strange to see my children the same age as I was when they were the same age as she was. I remember feeling no longer young, when I was that old. Little did I know.

When you look into people’s faces you can sometimes fancy you can see the children they were and when you look into their eyes you can sometimes fancy you can see that child still in there, wondering what the hell happened.

I am still the same as I ever was, I think, looking out. There are things I recollect. Memories are strange: fragmentary collages of images and sound, hard to distinguish from dreams. The common factor which unites mine is me. I seem to have been there, watching, all the time.

People say time flies but I don’t think so. Some things that happened years ago seem like yesterday and some things that happened recently could have happened years ago. It depends what it is you’re thinking about. Life is one long list of stuff to do. There’s loads of it.

Sometimes I wonder if I actually am getting older on the inside. Sat on a raft in an estuary in thick fog on a calm day, you wouldn’t know if the tide were going in or out: the raft would move with the water and all would seem to be still. If you were moored to a post, you’d see and feel  the water move round you. Am I moving with time? I am aware of it passing so perhaps I’m not: perhaps I’m moored, watching it pass from a fixed point. My eyes see, my ears hear, my brain files away the information as memories. My body gets older.

But, as I said, I’m still the same. Or. at least, I think I am.

One day, I guess, decades from now, my daughter and her husband will perhaps be feeling something like this, thinking about their 30-something daughter. Decades later, my granddaughter will probably feel something similar. The character that looks out of her eyes will still be there, looking out, wondering how the cute toddler, smiling so proudly because she can stand and walk, came to be doing whatever she is doing, wondering how her face came to tell the story she sees in the face she sees in the mirror.

May it be as happy and fulfilling a story as possible.



4 thoughts on “Reflections

  1. Lovely piece of writing. I so enjoyed reading it. As your Mum I think of your life just as you think of your daughter’s of course. At 85 I don’t feel any different inside either. I have weathered the deaths of two very dear husbands but I have gone on making the most out of life – the only way to be I believe. As to our memories – of course we will never know how accurate they are – memory is very choosy in what it recalls.

  2. I liked this piece. I saw a sign on a wall in Rotterdam which said something like “I must keep changing in order to stay the same.” Quite true of course but it often feels like the opposite.

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