THE WEAKNESS OF BEING OLD | Chronicle by Roland Ogomigo

Every day I see kids play in the evening with their friends, I enjoy the energy of childhood. As an old man sitting carefully on a chair outside my apartment, I laugh at their fun games.

Now my bones are weak, my wrinkles are more visible daily. I can't feel my strong teeth as usual. My prime days are only memories now. I am no longer that agile handsome figure that gets ladies crazy.

How life has hunched my back and given me a grey look. Without my youthful pictures, no one will believe I was once like these vibrant kids.

Whatever thing I do is directed by extreme care. My grandson sometimes aids my movement. I am no longer friendly with noise. Me that was a music lover. I could raise the volume to the highest at will.

Humans are like food that pass through processes on the fire. I am now the overcooked (burnt) food. Probably the sour food. Someday, I will be discarded when fungi infest me.

What can I do?, I am just like other humans. 


This phase of life is appealing and disgusting.


I am lucky to experience it.

I look forward to my grave when I won't remember I once lived.

The dead know nothing.

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