QCP Parties and Getting Old?

So this weekend I went up to Vermont for a "little" family reunion. Once large fiestas with blinking shirt pins and falling trees...the Queen City Park reunion was rather mellow this year. Don't get me wrong...it wasn't a total snoozer...I did get felt up by my drunk uncle, and at one point my aunt did whip off her bra to revel rather perky ta ta's on that chilly day. But...we had all changed in the years since we had last gathered to eat, drink and be merry.

Yes, we had all gotten older. Hair was graying. Skin less tan than before. My mother and I compared varicose veins...we bonded. Even the dogs had aged. The once young pups full of slobber and kisses were slower, hollower, and shaking. The time has ticked by without my realizing...yet again.

I have been thinking a lot lately about getting old. I wonder what I'll be like. Will I be as scared to die then as I am now.

I picture myself...my organs and skin all stitched together over crackling bones...snot rags up my shirt sleeve...the smell of moth balls on my underwear. Will I still be with Brendan? Will we mash our toothless gums together in a frenzy of rickety kisses? Will we still be able to gaze upon each other blind to the beauty that has been lost...blind to the years that have gone by...or will we just be blind? I picture Brendan in a sweater cardigan...half bald...liver spots and paper thin chicken skin-tea baggin' his balls in the toilet cuz' he has to sit down to pee...I picture this and smile...because it is a comfort...that if he is ever that old...at least he is still around. It would be amazing to hear his singing voice at 90. Will he still be wiggling and whistling? We will most certainly still have cats...but will we have gone through all of the Roman emperors to name them after?

I can't imagine what it will feel like to be...old. Will I enjoy my wisdom? Will the loss of color in the world make it any less beautiful to see? Will I be able to appreciate the wrinkles...the ones that are marked scars upon my face that were ironed in by every smile, every joy, every laugh? Will I be able to look in my own tired eyes in the mirror and see pass the whitish haze that covers the stories of my youth that I will hopefully remember in my heart? Will I be able to love the topography of my skin...each speckle once a kiss...each popped vein...marking blood shared with the ones I love?

Yes, I am scared to grow old. As it has been happening since the day I was born...I just now have begun to take notice. Those around me are growing old too. I think they look beautiful in their wrinkles and their wisdom. I only hope that I will age with grace and go out with a flurry.

It was an early night on Saturday down in Queen City Park. The corn was sweet. The ribs were phenomenal. The young children colored the day. And though we were all a little changed...the core was still strong. My family was together...and the love was still there.

That's all for now,

Brandi