Disappearing
I felt myself enter into a new period of my life in November of 2023. It happened when I came down from Guadalupe Peak, exhilarated and tired, exhausted more precisely. I’ve mentioned this before and I mention it again because now, as usually happens with my new life phases, it’s coming into sharper focus. It’s the time of disappearing. And I think it’s a universal thing that happens to all of us as we age and make our way out the door or down the drain of life.
I’m preparing to be gone. Not in a purposeful, short term way, of course, because I still have things I want to do, and there are still things I like to do. But I’m gradually becoming less visible, partly of my own making and partly because no one is looking except to wonder why I’m driving so slow or why I dress like I dress. I’m elderly. No longer a thing of promise or potential. In fact, I’m on my way to becoming something like a neutrino, a thing of such small mass I can pass nearly unseen. A thing of little weight.
Unless I miss my guess, I think it’s why you find the elderly staying close to home. They’re pulling their universe in around them, touching things they can still touch, touching things that still respond to their touch. It’s not to say, however, there aren’t people who want me around. There are. And I want to be around. But. And it’s a big one. I’m still in the act of disappearing. It’s just that I’ve recognized it, and therefore, might have an opportunity to enjoy the journey and make it a good one.