I Really Don’t Mind Getting Older But My Body Is Taking It Badly
There are traces of memory when I was five; I can remember how I was carried around, bathed, and fed.
My mom never lets me out of her sight; she was strong and I always sat by her and watch her wash my clothes as she told me a lot of stories.
I can remember her feeding me, tucking me in bed, and reading bed stories to me, until sleep took over.
I can remember those days we walked hand in hand into the mall to shop for groceries. I can remember playing hide and seek with her; she was strong and was able to chase me around in the mall.
I can remember the days she carried me on her back, the days I would run after her, or the lovely walks around the estate.
Then now she can’t move a limb, and all I can hold onto was the memories of times she could walk with her feet.
Old age has cut up with her and I knew sooner than later, it would be my turn. I never for once saw old age coming; it all started from the wrinkles and white hairs.
We stopped walking for long like before; we always took the car on our way to the mall. You stopped washing with your hands and opted for the washing machine; I knew at that time that my momma was getting old.
I was not happy seeing us stop doing things we always did when you were younger, but I believe that old age is inevitable; it’s just a matter of time before it catches up with me too.