azi e ziua internationala a oamenilor in virsta.
de ce ar sarbatori cineva batrinetea?
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intr-o vreme, cind semnele de batrinete ale parintilor mei deveneau din ce in ce mai evidente, n-am mai vrut sa ma duc sa-i vad. mi-era groaza de momentul revederii (ii vedeam la citeva luni distanta) pentru ca erau evidente modificarile de pe trup, ridurile de pe fata, albitul parului.
acum un an am citit un text al lui Mike Sager cu titlul Old. o poveste despre batrinete, ilustrata prin viata unui batrin de 92 ani. textul, mega premiat, e incredibil de emotionant si de rafinat.
era un fragment acolo care m-a facut sa zimbesc si sa ma gindesc ca, oricit ar inainta in virsta oamenii, ei se simt pe dinauntru ca si cum ar astepta continuu sa se maturizeze; sunt vii, copilarosi, vioi. ei asa se stiu dintotdeauna si, cind nu se uita in oglinda, se minuneaza de ce cei din jur nu li se adreseaza ca unor copii mai maricei.
cu gindul asta mi-e mai usor sa accept ca parintii mei imbatrinesc
You live in your body everyday of your life. Things change slowly, inexorably, in increments too small to measure. You gain weight, you lose weight, your hair falls out. Your skin slackens, your voice thins, your bones become brittle, your ankles swell. Your prostate and a piece of your colon are removed. Your back bends with the weight of gravity and passing time. You wake up twice during the night to pee; once in a hile, you wet your pants. Crossing your legs has become a project that requires your hands; getting out of a chair has become a gymnastics routine; eating a bowl of soup has become a logistical feat. Whenever you go to the store, you can’ remember if you have coffee at home.
(…)
You ask people questions several times over. Sometimes, just as you‘re asking, you realize that you’ve already asked this same question, that you ‘ve already hea
