The lifetime age gap … like time in a warped bottle

How often do you think about the gap between how young you feel and how old you actually are? Evelyn Kalinosky gave it a lot of thought, and concluded, it’s Time In A Warped Bottle.

During a somewhat nostalgic frame of mind, I penned a poignant and somewhat tongue-in-cheek poem about the aging process—mine, anyway.

I wrote it after spending the day celebrating my four-year-old granddaughter’s birthday at one of those places with all the inflatable bouncy things -– you know, jungle gyms and trampolines filled with air, but not enough to actually keep you buoyant.

Evelyn Kalinosky

Evelyn Kalinosky

After two hours of joining the other kids in the bouncy house (did I mention, most of them were four?), I realized with that sort of incredulous naivety that shows up now and again as I age (like when I walk past a mirror and wonder why my mother’s face is reflected there) that I’m not, in fact, still a kid, and climbing inflatable walls that move and sway is better left to younger bones.

Heavy sigh …

Don’t worry -– I still have my bucket list with lots of things on it like traveling, hiking and climbing -– but I’ve made sure to have Advil and BENGAY on there, too. If nothing else, aging has made me more pragmatic.

I’m reminded of the quote by George Bernard Shaw: “Youth is wasted on the young.”

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? That’s what my poem is about!

Time in a Warped Bottle

Age sneaks up on you like a lion stalking its prey

It’s looking for me

I need the volume turned up when I watch TV

and glasses to read the newspaper

Moisturizing lotion to soften my skin

and a diet more cardboard than cuisine

At least the fragrance reminds me of real food

If I wore a pair of rose-colored glasses would I smell any sweeter?

Who am I kidding?

The sales clerk at the music store has really nice eyes

Maybe he’d consider doing the funky chicken with me

At my age I can’t run as fast and he could probably catch me

A paux de deux perhaps?

Oh the foolish dance of youth who think nothing of tomorrow

Like selling lottery tickets at a funeral

I look in the mirror and erase years with my pencil

Many years later I see that much clearer

Time in a warped bottle helps keep in the freshness

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

but blinders make it easier to see

something obvious like a mirror saying grace

or a sunrise putting on its makeup before it greets the day

And the lion crouches lower – waiting, watching, ready to chase

old-Bottles-window

Evelyn Kalinosky is a catalyst and mentor for business women in midlife transition. She specializes in working with women 40 forward who are ready to claim – or reclaim – their Sacred Capital. Her passion is to create a new paradigm in how we think about aging, specifically, how we think about women aging.

Her award-winning Inner Affluence Blog received top honors in 2011 and 2012 as “Best Coaching Blog” by the School of Coaching Mastery, and she was named “1 of 101 Women Bloggers to Watch in 2011″ by WE Magazine for Women. In addition to being a coach and mentor, Evelyn is a speaker and published poet. Her blog is Inner Affluence.

2 Comments

  1. I must admit, the older I get, the greater the gap becomes. Esp,. at work. I feel like I can be as quick and “quick witted” as the younger crowd. It’s sorely obvious I can’t. Notice it a lot when clothes shopping as well. So many styles I gravitate to but just too young for me. On that note, saw a woman at work today – dressed way too young. She could have been 60. Had on a little dress, low cut little bust that kind of pushed hers up in a very unattractive way, full skirt that fell from bodice line to about 3 inches above her knee, leotards and some sort of Mary Jane shoes. It was just wrong.

  2. Evelyn you nailed it. The analogy of growing old with a lion stalking its prey was painfully true, and yet still brought a smile to me face. I also know I and get out of bed every morning, well almost every, that I feel like the teenager I once was, only to be confronted by that stranger in the mirror. I loved your poem, perhaps tongue in cheek, but spot on. Thank you.

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