old times

as my grandfathers enlarged arthritic hand bones nudged my arm for the nth time, he was telling me of what he calls "old times." he is fascinated with "old times." all he has is "old times," he says. i was trying my best to not stare at his thinning frame or liver spots, so i was thinking about the colour of the sky outside, or the shape of the piano keys i could see. then it struck me. it is not because he is an old man, not because he never does anything anymore but because this is a 100% fact.

whatever we do, we do it because of the past. whatever we think we are doing the future, we are doing it for the past. when we see old friends in the pub after months of not seeing them, we do not talk about what we are going to do next month, let alone week, we speak of what we have done, what we have felt, what we have seen. we speak of "old times."


***

this is a perfect example. i have made this statement out loud (in the past), i have written it down (in the past), i have tattooed it onto my chest (in the past), but my god i am still trying my best to make it become a present, holding onto it forever, planning to write about it in the future, combining my past present and future by writing about them. it never ends.