aging
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Ristra
These fresh peppers–fire-engine red and leather-supple,all youth and loudness–gather,jostling and laughing,enjoying the attention. They age,color mellowing to burgundy,skin stiffening. Relaxed now, they fall silent,awed by the heat building within,ready to release the firefor which they were bred. Young peppers flash;old… Continue reading
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Blink
Aging,we realize that we are any given agefor only a moment. So quickly it passes–all passes. At this end of the journeywe become observers(like God,outside the stream of time,watching time's flightlike a single turning of the clock): a… Continue reading
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A Diner in Central PA
sepia photos on the wallsoldthe color of memory a brick house shadowed by tall treesa two-story business districta trolley car linked to overhead lines this could be my historymy history pinned to these wallslong enough ago nowto be a curiosityfor… Continue reading
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Thinning Walls
How thin these walls have become,the walls between youth and age, between the conscious and the unconscious, between this world and the next, between my heart and yours, between our hearts and theirs. Permeable.Translucent. Through ever-thinning wallsI hear other voices.I… Continue reading
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On Growing Old
He witnessed the aging of his bodywith detachment–as if it were happening to an uncleor a neighbor. The graying hair,the sagging in the face,the loss of mobility and strength–no, not after a lifetimeof doing it right–eating, exercising, making all the… Continue reading
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Aging
Growing old?I can handle such.Growing up?Well, not so much. Text and image © 2013 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading
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Greasing the Skids
"Grease the skids,"said his father. He had no ideawhat skids were,or where or how to grease them,or what relevance either grease or skids hadto his current problem. His father was proneto sudden, short and seemingly certain solutionsto any problem,all of… Continue reading
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Magic
When I was a child,magic lived in the world–not illusion,not pretend,real magic. Magic filled warm summer nightswhen I leaned on my window silland whistled softlymy four-note tune,through the screen.I repeated it several times,waiting for the nightto bring something unknownsomething extraordinary.This… Continue reading
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Senior Cats
They are now eight.How can a creature of eight yearsbe "senior"?They eat "senior" food.They go for annual "senior" exams. My other cat(companion of my adult life)lived to be nineteen.If eight means "senior,"what was she? I am fifty-eight,a week from fifty-nine.What… Continue reading
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Compassion
This face and the story behind it:wrinkles deep as a museum exhibit,teeth yellow as urine…and few of them. But a grin so heartfelt,of corroded lips, cracked like dried yogurt. It is he who weeps for me. Perhaps only from the… Continue reading