The More Things Change the More They Stay the Same

I’ve been tied up for a week helping my parents who declining health-wise. It’s been extremely painful.

I know it’s not about me, yet who can not see themselves in their place in ten, twenty, and God help me thirty years. Even now a slight mental slip or brain fart makes me paranoid—it’s happening, I think. I look for the signs of early dementia. Even a slow down is a reason for sudden alarm. I run now every other day and instead of the 5 – 6 miles, I’ll do 4.

At the same time I experience a certain hubris—I’ll never be like Mom, clutching my purse afraid that someone is going to steal my wallet, hovering over people to make sure they’re doing things right, dozing in my chair after lunch.

Then it hits me. The older I grow, the more like my parents I become.