I Grow Old
One of my favorite poems in my high school and college days was T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. There is a wonderful line towards the end of the poem:
I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear my trousers rolled
I think of this line often, when I think about getting old. It’s an association that I can’t get rid of– nor do I really want to, because let’s face it– Eliot was a genius with words and imagery, so if I have to think of him when I think about getting older, it’s not such a bad thing.
This morning I found that one of my eyelashes had turned white.
Yes, I have a white eyelash.