"It's an old story- the oldest we have on our planet-
the story of replacement."
I sat there, contemplating those three superb lines written
by Sharon Olds in her poem "35/10". How odd it must feel to one day
behold the beauty of youth, and the next to suddenly behold only lines across
one's forehead and age spots on the arm that used to display porcelain skin.
What will my reaction be when I awake one day and suddenly realize that I am no
longer seventeen, but I am in fact possibly married and possibly have children
and grandchildren? Could I handle seeing the gray hairs peeking out from my
roots, and could I allow myself to fully depend on a crutch- which is just the
beginning signs of my strength being replaced with weakness and years.
The entirety of Olds' poem consists of the mother making
physical comparisons to that of her daughter's complexion: "...The fold in
my neck clarifying as the fine bones of her hips sharpen... my skin shows its
dry pitting, she opens like a moist precise flower on the tip of a
cactus..." The mother feels almost as if her daughter has stolen her youth
and has replaced it with creases and the unfortunate wisdom of what is
happening to her.
"Why is it just as we begin to go they begin to
arrive...?" the mother questions in a voice that seems to almost be that
of distress. However much we hate it, it is a part of life that we must learn
to endure. Some things get better as we become older over the years, and other
things become worse. It is the nature of life.
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