The world around me is aging, my own body softer and more fragile by the day. Inside, the image of myself, is stuck. I used to say it seemed as though I was still 16, but I am not my age in here. Like a large stone stuck on a beach of sand, I feel like I am the only one the passage of time has no effect on. The people I know are picking up keys and becoming adults while I’m back throwing rocks in lakes.
I’ve stopped waiting to feel older. An elephant stands on my shoulders as I scoop ice cream for sub-living wage. There is someone else in the mirror and there are questions about what the hell is going on. Embarrassment floods the river of shame and I’m left with a sore neck and sticky sugar-milk hands.
Ordered more beer ingredients. Clarity in practice as well as routines. More soon.
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I still feel like a little kid, too. And I have little kids!
What are you brewing?
My first bitter (hopville recipe) & A Cranberry Wheat (hopville recipe)
And thanks – that is actually comforting.