“We seem like passing strangers now
Funny how things can change
We were so inseparable
Now you’re acting very strange….”
And passing strangers is how I describe all those great thoughts and ideas I have in the shower or driving the car that completely disappear by the time I am near a computer or notebook to jot them down. It seems that I am brimming with great ideas for a post or a poem that I absolutely must write but poof, it wafts off into the great blue yonder never to be seen or heard from again.
And I guess this is one of the things I do dislike about getting older. The mind is not nearly as clear as it was; things are not stored the way they were and the memory fails me at times. I do remember wondering why my Mother would forget something that I had told her just a few days ago. Now I find that my daughter is saying the same thing to me – But Mother I already told you we were going to be away this weekend or I already told you the boys were playing water polo at the Hutt Pool.
Do you ever find yourself seeking a word – a very normal, everyday word. This happens sometimes when I am writing. Luckily, I can go ahead with what I am trying to say and the elusive word just pops back into my head. But all those great ideas are lost never to return. So yes, they are like passing strangers
“I think age is a very high price
to pay for maturity”
Sir Tom Stoppard, OM, CBE, FRSL
British playwright, knighted in 1997. 1937 –
“Getting old ain’t for the fainthearted”
My friend Phyllis Mills 1914-2006 (?)