Age

The Seven Ages of Man - William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


My parents are visiting me currently in NYC and as has been the norm since I moved to the US, I have met them at regular intervals of 7 months. This time was no exception as well. Only now, they seem to be growing older much sooner. Every 7th month that I see them, I discover new signs of age; a new wrinkle I never knew of before, new lines near the eyes, slower walking paces, smaller strides, difficulty in getting up from being seated; but thankfully no new ailment.
As a child, you can never imagine your parents growing old. The child in me, has yet to come to terms with the fact, that my parents will grow still older with time.
That, I guess means, its finally time for me to grow up!