He looks up with inquisitive eyes and asks of me:
"Grandma, what's it like to be so old?"
His question makes me smile inside.
His direct curiosity; so pure.
Of this, his prying mind, afterall, it's not so very bold!
His inquiring is really honest-to-goodness
bona fide.Through the echos of my mind, I'll try and answer, tho I must be sure...
I take his pint-sized hand in mine.
I guide him to the chair...
Together, we sit; I hold him in my arms real tight.
Concede, I will not! For him, I'll not resign...
As I begin to regale what my life's tale'll tell,
With my now aged fingers, I pet his flaxen hair,
I try to capture his attention as well...
As I try to eventuate...to reveal to him; it's all gotta be...
every word now, just has to be right!!
"Let's see, 'what's it like being old' you ask".
"Yes, now my youth is coming back to me...
it's all so very crystal clear!"
"Well, let me tell you my dear..."
"Not so long ago, I was just like you."
"Young, curious, happy and smart."
He looks up to me from my bosom and beams.
The desire to reacquaint,
His steel blue eyes are now aglow.
With the time we have together as, my tale, I repaint...
he's ready and willing to hear my verbal reams...
to really be next to me; and know.
"Yes, once -just like you dear heart."
- - -<><><>- - -
Bringing to pass, I tell him of youth
I consider how to continue, what next to relate...
"But when I was young there was no TV."
He fidgeted a bit, filled with wonder
He couldn't comprehend the absense of false entertainment; my fate...
"Grandma? No television when you were a kid?" I say:
"Nope, we had games like jump rope, hide and seek, kick the can, and jacks.
In the summer I stayed outdoors for fun...
'til the day was ended and there was nothing more than a setting sun.
Kids were with freedom of imagination, what your life sometimes lacks!"
He drank in my words and wiggled some more;
his expression filled with ponder.
I told him of my friends, my brothers and sister.
I tried to make a vivid enough story about school days.
At times I felt he became a bit tired of my story...
Tho his interest lighted up again; it seemed--
as I described my favorite game...called TWISTER.
He giggled with delight as I told him how I'd fall down...
wrenched up and tangled beneath others as they toppled over me.
"I really didn't need the tv at all." I beamed...
- - -<><><>- - -
I recounted my assigned duties by age.
What MY mom called chores.
I'd make an allowance then
and spend it at stores.
I familiarized how working for a living was meant to be
as when a kid growing up and later in years.
How my mother would be there if needed to guide me.
Preparing me for memory, learning and skills...
what I'd think of as 'life's souvenirs'.
"We all must carry our own weight in the world."
"Learn to eke a living, share our knowledge."
"Sometimes test our predetermined course..."
With this little ditty, my grandson, more tightly in my arms he curled.
"...for so many times as we live day to day, there's a will..
that should be our own destiny...our driving force."
- - -<><><>- - -
In such a short time, my grandson, he yawned.
I knew then I must cut this short...
But I felt compelled to continue...to carry on for now.
"I saw and lived through many things, I did."
"Wars, loss of lives, a new dawn, many Springs and lots of Winters. Christmastime in the Rockies --oh so peaceful; snow covered bough--"
"I hiked in the majestic mountains, I fished the many rivers, I traveled overland."
"There was camping, and schooling."
"Different jobs and such. My own personal power-grid."
"Your grandfather came into my life; I was young."
"Your mother was born to me, a gift I should say...
The best gift a person can have is to be a mother."
"I tried my best to raise her like I was...teaching and nurturing for the years ahead."
"All of this done over such a short period in time, done in my own special way."
My grandson's eyes were now heavy with sleep...I knew I must stop.
I rocked him gently and whispered sweet words of love.
I raised myself slowly as to not wake the sweet bundle...
Reaching his room, I lay him lightly on the downy quilt top...
As I again stroked his flaxen hair with my aged fingers,
In a whispered tone I said:
"What's it like being so old, you ask?" I'll tell you...
"It's wonderful...just look what's lying on the bed!!!"
"Old Age" ©
Composed by me, Hootin' AnniMay 2010copyrighted
