Getting old sneaks up on you. People see you differently. Weaker. They use the word frail and rush to your side to help you over curbs and such. Others see you as a problem just for existing. I understand that and will not be offended if you’re wondering why God takes youngsters and leaves old-timers like me behind. I have often wondered the same thing myself. My body has long since worn out, held together now by spit and baling wire, my bones creaky, my joints complaining with every move.
