Old Age

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Old age took you away from me. I thank the things you left behind. Say for example, let me use your baby powder. If you haven’t gone yet, we could have bought a make-up kit together. These days, my face looks ugly.

You told me before, ‘your eyelashes are beautiful.’ I told you I only love my eyes because they help me read poetry. After you left, I learned to love them because they cry.

Old age took you away from me. In another dimension, you are coughing from the smell of chalk dust while writing the alphabet on the board. I may not have existed just yet but at least you are breathing.

Here’s the calculator. Let me compute the number of days we have spent together in this lifetime before your lungs gave up on you. You forgot to say goodbye to the Christmas lights. Your pillows seek for your touch. I miss your perfume. I don’t know if I could find your star in the sky. Grandma, you forgot to teach me how to love at night.

In this part of the story, I am the only who remembers: Old age is the thief.


ROCHELLE ANN T. MOLINA

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