#i already feel so old

There’s a book I read years ago, called The Five People You Meet in Heaven. It’s a beautiful book, and in it Eddie, who’s just died, goes on a journey through various memories of his life. Times he never even thought were significant.

One thing that really stuck with me was how as he started, he couldn’t believe how light and easy it was to move again as if he was a kid. Then he goes on through more memories, growing up, and each time he describes how his legs look and knees feel, as they slowly become thin and veined and crippled by arthritis.

I often think about that. When I’m having to prepare myself to stand up from a seat; when I’m wincing as my stiff back fights back in a morning; when I’m jumping down a step and expecting to feel so much lighter than I do. I don’t remember how I got to this point. It’s insidious, creeping in since before I even hit puberty. And in the same way, it will worsen.

And even though I don’t really believe in an afterlife, sometimes I like to imagine I will have a heaven like Eddies. To sit outside of my old primary school soaking up the sun in the summer, pain free, doing cartwheels and hand stands. To be able to experience the body I used to take for granted again.