my fountain of youth

i often complain to my friends how old i feel. despite how it seems like i don't look (or even act) my age to people, i still am not as convinced. every morning, as i get out of bed, my entire body serves as a reminder that long gone are the days of my youth. joints crack and pop, muscles stay stiff, and getting up feels to be already a loosing battle. couple this with injuries healing and you can only imagine how "wonderful" waking up feels like for me.

the rest of my day doesn't necessarily get any better either.

the grind that i endure six times a week leaves me with little to be excited for. you work because you have to. you work because you have to survive. you work because there's nothing else you can do. you work, because that's what people YOUR age are supposed to do. ending my days, i get home often mentally, emotionally and physically depleted. i feel dulled out, low in fuel and fatigued. i would often take a quick dinner and just throw myself onto my couch and just linger there for a while. my mother would often ask about my day and my answer, almost automatic, would be always in a gesture, so-so.

this is how aging feels like. almost like a slow and gradual decline to where ever. even the thought of the destination feels heavy.

it is during these moments when i would sometimes wish i could gain back my youth, gain back the vigor i once had for living. when i would wish, i could gain back the days when life was simple, when i was simple and my mind was still free from all the complications and concepts and theories that now paralyze me. when i would wish, i could gain back the time wherein, i could have made better choices, made fewer mistakes, had lesser regrets, and not feel so much like the failure i am now...

on these, probably my lowest days, i find myself seeking my mom's embrace. i have always done so, i think, from back when i was little. all i need to do is ask and she drops whatever it is she's doing and gives me one whole-heartedly. though now i have to lean down to loose myself in a weaker hug, her hold, even if she struggles to wrap her arms around me, feels like the same ones that had held me all those many times. it's a cocooning feeling, a safe feeling. it's a feeling as if you were young again, full of life and vigor. it's a pure, genuine feeling, free from complexities and complications and convoluted concepts and stubborn theories. it's a tender, gracious feeling, with no trace of the slightest judgment, but only an overwhelming effulgence of unconditional love.

happy birthday mom. loving you is like breathing. effortless.