I’ve been thinking of old age lately. Not really sure why, but it seems to be a recurring theme these days. Maybe because I am now thirty seven. Thirty-freaking-seven people! Although, I kinda like that number, just not as my age, thank you. Anyhow, I’ve been thinking about old age. Watching people on the bus, just wondering what life will be like when I’m their age. Will I be here still? Living in the craziness that is NYC? Will I be independent, out and about on my own devices? Will I be wise, centered and calm? I don’t know. As most things in life, old age seems like a big mystery to me. Not sure why.
Today, as I ventured down to the Venezuelan Consulate, once more, I decided I would stop by St. Patrick’s Cathedral on my way back home. It turns out lunch hour mass was about to begin once I stepped in and I stayed for it. St. Patrick’s is such a beautiful place, I always feel peaceful when I’m there. During communion there was a very old priest on my side of the pew and I could not but stare at him. He seemed so cute. I started wondering what his life had been like, if he had fulfilled his dreams and hopes. If being a priest was all he ever wanted to do and be. And as he walked back I couldn’t but fallow him with my gaze, mesmerized at his walking with difficulty, holding his cane and lifting his robes.
I’ve never been afraid of death. For me it symbolizes the passage to a better, more peaceful, beautiful, spiritual place. So, most of the time, in fact, am looking forward to it. But old age, I think I hadn’t much thought about old age, and seems interesting I am thinking about it now. It’s drawing me in for some reason. I’m curious, I want to know what it feels like. I guess I will find out first hand sooner than later, like most of us. But for now, I can only ponder.