Entering older years, I now understand how my words have become less visible. The way they evaporate into sound, a dripping coffeepot or the early call of sparrows merely announcing the day. Somewhere I read it is normal, that as we age, we turn inward, speak less, feel less, allowing the rooms we have built or our children articulate everything, background music of breakfast conversation. Have you ever had that song play in the nook of your head? Someone once said it's a theme song. Something that speaks for us. Speaks OF us, so we no longer need the words. When I am ninety, still sitting among the small talk, I think I will turn inside out, everyone else's thoughts infused, diffused with mine. And me and my peaceful tongue? You will hear only my wordlessness, the lilt of my quiet-eyed calm, that homespun song we thought we would never have when we were young and loquacious. Convincing in our words. Convinced of immortality. -Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, Copyright 2023
Posted in Katherine's Coffeehouse
