Old Age: The Twilight Years

Humped over and leaning on his cane, tottering and unsteady, the old man walked towards the front porch, decorated with bright yellow sunflowers, conveying warmth and happiness.

He sat on the wooden brown porch steps and watched the world go by, trapped behind the walls of age. Grumped at the neighbours noisy children, he stood up to go back into the house, he grunted and creaked with every move. The old man entered his small vintage house, smelling of freshly baked scones ready for a family tea, which his lovely wife had prepared, who was now sitting in her rocking chair, legs uplifted as her ankles were swollen with gout. She sat there knitting a brown sweater for her husband, with her gnarled hands. The old man sat in his rocking chair, thinking of when he was young, his waning youth. He was once a rock and roller, now he rocks only the chair.

With strains to hear, he thought he had heard a car outside. He stood up bending forwards to keep his balance and walked towards the front porch, with his stretched and transparent blue-veined skin over his knobby bones. He stood at the front door viewing the drive way, as a little cold breeze blew his hair, a crown of faded glory. He had heard correctly, he saw his son along with his family getting out of their small convertible Audi A3 car, and warmly welcomed all four family members and demandingly signaled them to enter the house using his cane. While the old lady got the tea ready and served her family, the old man; a faded version of his son, started a conversation with his son, zoning out every once in a while.

Spending some time with his two grandchildren, he told them about his experiences of world war two, his memory as cloudy as his eyes. He sat there thinking back to the days when he was a young man, along with all his youthful memories and when he had first met his wife; her electrifying smile had won him over and her eyes of paradise. He still had the young mind, a youthful heart, trapped in an old, wrinkled skin costume. Late that night, after he had taken all of his medication, hot water bottle and Ben Gay, he lay there in bed, thinking about his life as an old man, his heart ached as he longed for his old social and active life; the closest that he could get to a social life now was on bingo nights. Everyone wants to live long but no one wants to grow old. The old age is an essential part of human life. It is the evening of life.