A Writer’s Papyrus

I ween that as I get older, I feel that I am becoming more and more of a flibbertigibbet.  It isn’t exactly a characteristic that I relish, but if I am truly honest with myself, I know I can’t escape that fact.  What is within my power, however, is the ability to change. 

As they say about the brain - “If I rest, I rust.”  Indeed I am discovering the truth to that statement even through an activity as simple as Sudoku.  When the hubby first bought me a Nokia N73 for my birthday, it came with the puzzle game Sudoku.  I was quite hooked on it and I played the game quite often.  It got to a point where I could improve my timing every time I played the game. 

Then my son came along and I got a little busy, so the Sudoku went on the back burner for a while.  Recently, I started playing the game again because it is one of the few things I can keep myself occupied with when nursing my son to sleep (the mild light from the phone doesn’t disturb his sleep and I get something to do while I’m waiting for him to come off the breast).  Now when I play the game, I feel like I’m suffering from brain strain tackling the harder levels.  I’m sure you could probably see the smoke coming out of my ears. 

I can’t imagine why I suddenly find it so difficult when I remember I could work out the puzzles in under ten minutes.  Now I’m lucky if I make it under twenty minutes and sometimes, I’m even pushing fifty minutes just on one puzzle!  I can’t seem to “see” the answers as easily as I used to.

It is a little like returning to climbing after a long sabatical.  The brain remembers being able to climb well, but the body can’t seem to make the moves.

I feel inclined to put it all down to old age and its degenerative nature.  Although I know the way around it is to exercise my brain - just as I remember from an ad a long time ago (it was a picture of an old lady wearing sneakers with the caption, “If old age is catching up to you, walk a little faster.”) - it seems like everything requires twice as much effort or takes twice as long.

I also seem to be developing this terrible habit of meandering through my thoughts, instead of getting straight to the point.  It is exactly the sort of thing my mother and grandfather have a habit of doing that used to annoy me as a child.  It makes me wonder if this habit is something we develop because we can’t keep track of our thoughts as well as we used to?

Then again, I’ve never really though of myself as old.  It is almost as if time stood still the day I graduated from University.  I keep thinking of myself as a new graduate until my old Uni mate told me that our ten year anniversary is coming up soon.  Ten years?  Was it really so long ago?

Last year, I met up with some old Uni mates of mine.  I remembered thinking how everyone seems to have aged - a few more lines around the eyes, a few extra kilos around the frame, a little less hair…  It’s all rather subtle changes but changes nonetheless. 

And even though the aches are setting in, I still don’t think of myself as old.  Recurrent pains from sites of old injuries, waking up feeling stiff because I slept in a funny position (yet my son can sleep in all the weirdest positions), feeling tired because I stayed up late - up until now, I have never really attributed them to my getting older.  I might joke about it, but I never really believe it.

“You’re only as old as you feel.”  Ironically, some time back I saw a dentist I had met before and he remarked, “You look younger than I remembered.”  And at my old Uni gathering, one of my friends remarked that even though everyone else look older, I still looked the same.  Does my face reflect the age I feel in my heart or should I thank my parents’ genetics for keeping me looking youthful?  When I was a teenager, I used to hate having the “baby face”.  I eventually came to my senses and realised that when I am forty, I will be grateful that I only look like I’m thirty.

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