A Reflection on Love and Age

 

So, I suddenly find myself within a few weeks of my sixtieth birthday. And, of course, (life being a countdown), I have been expecting it.

However, the notions that I had of what it is to be sixty have all been revised. I see age in the mirror, but not sixty, not by a long shot. Nor do I see it in the faces of my relatives and friends, not sixty, not seventy. I have to assume that others do see it, (all too clearly), but still, I, somehow, hold out the hope  that I am an exception.

Which brings me to the point of my reflecting on my age. I met an American girl many years ago; her name was Sara. She spent sometime in Ireland, during which  she attended a writers group. In truth, I only spoke to her a couple of times; in her work, I recognized the subtlety that the  very best writers possess. I got what she was about, and she  understood my efforts. Today, I still have the testament to this in the book of English translations of Lorca she gave me that last night she attended the workshop.

Occasionally, I have  googled her name to see if she has become the writer she promised.  Yes, there is someone out there writing under her name; it doesn’t appear that  she has made it big, but at least she is still indulging a passion. Is it the same  Sara: we never got past some friendly words, I’ll never know.

She comes into my mind, because I think I fell in love with her. Not a wild physical love, but I think one falls in love with those who see the beauty that you see,  (imagine), in yourself. And those who see that deep internal beauty, see it because they too have it. And so you meet a soulmate.

It has happened a handful of times my life; that surge of recognition of a soulmate. It happens in brief encounters, maybe brief enough not to have found the negative; and so the person remains unsullied, perfect in your mind. The memories persist like hauntings. They persist as tiny, nagging, life-long longings.

At this age, I can permit myself to say that certain things are life-long. I can say too that there are feelings that persist. That aging is not as it appears in the mirror, because some things just haven't changed.