Age

This is what happens when you grow old, my mother told me many years ago…

They shove your memories into cardboard boxes, labelling them accordingly. They rummage through your belongings, they touch your dirty clothes with one hand, throwing them into a black bin liner. You are forgotten. They cart you off to a home, where young nurses who are barely out of school take control of your life. You are powerless. You will sit, perhaps watch an afternoon game show, eat three meals a day and wait for your time to come. Your daughter will visit on occasions bringing the kids with her. They’ll ask why nanny can’t remember their names, why her eyes are always blank, why she looks dead and you’ll just continue to chatter, unaware of the questions. The sons, daughters and sisters will leave, you won’t notice, you’ll be consumed with the thought of fish n chips for tea. 

And one day you’ll forget who comes and who goes. Your grandchildren will merge into one fat black spot in the back of your mind. Your daughter will cry, you’ll comfort her, not understanding as to why. You’ll start to lose things, your eyesight will depend on the thick plastic glasses they hand you each morning, your hair will thin, perhaps you’ll even go bald. All your friends will die out, you’ll go on suffering, making the same conversations with the same amature nurse, she’ll pretend to listen, giving the same answers until you fall asleep at three thirty in the afternoon.  

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