Today I saw an elderly couple at the place I work. They had to be in(at the very least) their seventies. I was sitting on the ground fixing some things here and there, and I look and this older women who seemed to be trying to remember what she was getting, and her husband said "remember the Yeast, honey?" she nodded and smiled, and I bet she was going to go home and make bread, or a pie. She was wearing these loose high wasted jeans, with this pink blouse. She had white curly hair, and he had the glasses that all the kids these days seem to want. I couldn't stop staring at these people. I don't know why. If I had my Konica, I would have asked to take a picture.
Anyway, It got me thinking. They looked utterly happy and calm. They seemed to be so fragile and small but I could see their hearts beating for each other. I started to long to be that age. To have more lines than the trees that grew in grandmothers back yard diary. I thought maybe I could recycle all my future ambitions and endeavors and lock myself in a place to dispose of my young hood. I wouldn't even need someone next to me.
But I couldn't stop looking at the slant of their mouths when they looked at each other. To see how feeble they seemed, but then notice their strength to hold out so long for each other. To wait for what we are all waiting for. To Leave. To leave with someone. To go home to shaky letters from a husband who is old all the same; To be as equal with someone that you will die with them is completely mind blowing to me. I want to grow old and I don't know If I will. I want to have children who have had children. But I don't know if I will. I want to look back on a life that will grow flowers on my grave. Maybe even make them bloom.
But I think that's asking too much.
Anyway, It got me thinking. They looked utterly happy and calm. They seemed to be so fragile and small but I could see their hearts beating for each other. I started to long to be that age. To have more lines than the trees that grew in grandmothers back yard diary. I thought maybe I could recycle all my future ambitions and endeavors and lock myself in a place to dispose of my young hood. I wouldn't even need someone next to me.
But I couldn't stop looking at the slant of their mouths when they looked at each other. To see how feeble they seemed, but then notice their strength to hold out so long for each other. To wait for what we are all waiting for. To Leave. To leave with someone. To go home to shaky letters from a husband who is old all the same; To be as equal with someone that you will die with them is completely mind blowing to me. I want to grow old and I don't know If I will. I want to have children who have had children. But I don't know if I will. I want to look back on a life that will grow flowers on my grave. Maybe even make them bloom.
But I think that's asking too much.
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