Growing Old
15 · Apr · 1995
Growing Old
It's funny, the things you do when nearing that quarter century mark.
Like the time I held out my hand to the bouncer who was surrounded by intoxicated females. I didn't want to know his name. Didn't care for conversation or physical pleasure. I just wanted to know one thing: If I hold out my hand to this stranger, will he take it?
The ironic thing was, I knew he would. And He did.
I just held it out there, through the crowd of dancing, screaming, rockers and looked him right in the eye. He blinked once, stared back and slowly put his hand in mine. We held on for a moment, not breaking what seems now to be a framed picture. And as I pulled away, I felt him try to grip my hand. He didn't want to let go.
This journey back home… We don't want to go it alone. We want to believe that someone will come along, and in an instant, life gets better. With me going along, growing old, is lovely. And sometimes, for an instant, it does get better.
Posted by Penny Rene at April 15, 1995 10:31 AM