Old and Old Again

When I was about 50 I wrote a poem, Old. I was both sure I would die by 60 (many people close to me had died young, my father at 46) but even surer that I didn’t want to live my stereotyped vision of old. Even then I probably knew I wouldn’t have a real choice. 

I am now 80, learning how to be old and have revisited my poem and written a companion, Old Again.

Because most of you, like me, are now old I wanted to share both with all my Pasadena Village friends.

OLD

I don't want to grow old. I want to die suddenly, while still in my prime.

Oh fool am I, I'm just afraid Yes, afraid

Afraid of the old, no one listens no one to touch to hold

can't pick up the suitcase remember where the keys are climb a mountain drive a car see the stars

did you call today? OLD

                              WEAK            OLD

BOLD !

Will I find the courage to love me old?

BE BOLD !

Sally J. Asmundson, about 1990

Old Again

I didn’t die while still in my prime 

Here I am at 80, still alive and proud to be old

I’m still afraid of all the things I feared at 50

BUT

I am still listened to and if I don’t have someone to hold today it’s not because of age and loss 

I can still pick up the suitcase remember where the keys are drive a car, even slowly climb a mountain see the stars learn new things make new friends

YES 

You did call today and while I’m OLD I’m not yet weak

Even stronger in some ways

I am BOLD and learning to love myself more everyday ALIVE, AWARE, ENGAGED, READY!

Sally Asmundson- December 20, 2020