What does it feel like to be old?

 

Yesterday, a young boy from my block surprised me with a question: “Uncle, what does it feel like to be old?”

I was taken aback since I don’t consider myself old, even though I’m nearing 80. I’m strong and healthy. I gave him a cheeky smile, which left him looking surprised and a bit embarrassed.

Placing my arms around his shoulder, we walked toward the bus stop as I slowly explained that it was an interesting question and gave my feeling on his question.

After we parted and upon reflection, I realized that getting old is a rare gift.

Often, when I look in the mirror, I’m surprised at the person staring back at me. Two bulging eye bags, a wrinkled forehead, flabby chin, and a few black spots here and there, I think I look younger than my age. I stopped worrying about those things a long time ago. I wouldn’t trade anything I have for fewer wrinkles, less grey hair, or a flat stomach.

I don’t berate myself for brushing my full dentures instead of natural teeth, nor for not making the bed. I don’t feel guilty for occasionally indulging in fatty stewed pork legs or fresh cockles in sambal belacan. I enjoy my social beer sessions with a few close friends and vaping.

At my age, I’m not too concerned about unhealthy foods and habits. It’s too late to worry, nor can I reverse them. Don’t worry. Be happy

I’ve earned the right to be a little carefree, messy, extravagant, and to spend hours tending to my corridor garden and staring at my plants and flowers. It saddens me greatly to see dear friends leave this world before they’ve enjoyed the freedom that comes with growing old.

Who cares if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 am in the morning and then sleep until who knows what time?

I sing to the rhythm of the '50s and '60s with YouTube or indulge in nostalgia by staring for hours at my old photo albums, especially reminiscing about my puppy love and imagining what family life would have been like with her. I congratulate myself for the happy family I have now.

I walk slowly through the nature park in a singlet that stretches over my plump body, despite the pitying looks from the fast joggers. They’ll get old too, if they’re lucky.

I am grateful to have lived long enough for my hair to turn a bit grey with a blading top, my right eye blinded with glaucoma, and my knee joints to be in intermittent pain.

I no longer crave for fame or wealth but is satisfied to have my regular porridge with century eggs and salted vegetable for lunch and $4.00 economic rice for dinner. More importantly, I have no major sickness but if it comes, so be it.

Now, to answer the question honestly on how I feel to be old: I can say:

I like being old because old age makes me think and worry less. I know I’m not going to live forever, but while I’m here, I’m going to live by my own rules, those of my heart.

I’m not going to regret what wasn’t, nor worry about what will be. The time that remains, I will simply love life as I have until today, leaving the rest to God.

I wish you a long and healthy life. Cheers!!