I saw you walk into the diner with your husband.
Your back tired from years of living; your face pointed to the ground.
I saw you walk into the diner and I thought to myself I don’t want to get old.
I don’t want to sit across from my love and sit in silence because I cannot hear, I cannot see.
I saw the cataracts floating in your quiet eyes.
I saw your knuckles rising like mountains through the terrain of your hands.
I saw the permanent scowl you never asked for.
I daydreamed about your life, your marriage, about the emptiness you might feel right now.
I watched you from over my love’s shoulder, sitting in silence, staring at the table, lost in your own thoughts.
I also watched as you picked up your straw and blew the wrapper into your husband’s face.
And I watched as you clapped your hands and laughed until tears formed in your no longer quiet eyes.
I hope for her sake that wasn’t the last straw.
Lauren, I love this writing. Coming from a woman who is old but still loves to play. Thanks.
Oh my. By the way think of the alternative :0. Getting old is too bad then.
Opps. Isnt too bad then. (By the way I get it…..)