Cutting The Mustard
It's getting harder.
I get dizzy sometimes.
Have to pause, stop and stand for a moment.
But—I'm still trying to cut the mustard.
When you're young you want to do things.
Live!
When you get old you still want to do things.
And live.
But you have to slow down.
There are more little quirks to deal with.
Everyday is a new experience health-wise.
Old injuries come back to haunt you.
I see the looks.
An old man.
I am that old man.
But in my mind—I'm still a wild and crazy 16 year old.
I'm still the little fish swimming in the opposite direction,
while school of fish go the accepted way.
I've always found my own direction.
Even now as I face cutting the mustard.
I have to age in my own way.
I conduct a subtle war against time.
Which is running out.
I know that.
But I'm still putting up a fight to hang on.
To do things important to me.
To work toward un-achieved goals.
To keep trying to cut that mustard.
I may have lost certain abilities.
I may not be as full of energy as I used to be.
But damn it if I'm going to toss in the sponge.
I feel like screaming out “I'm still here you bastards!”
“You didn't get me down!”
So I'm going to keep spreading that mustard.
As long as I can cut it.
As long as I can breath.
For as long as I've got.
Still, it's getting harder.
And when I get so tired I can't keep up,
I smile because in a strange way it feels good to stop, rest,
and wait until I can go on.
Getting old is helping me see this life in a new way.
Am I getting wise?
Maybe.
