Too Old for This

They are perennially young. Every semester they appear fresh from high school or a tad jaded from a few years of college, but bursting with the vigor and elan of youth. You pile on the years and they show in your tired eyes, gray hair growing out of your ears. They anticipate a future full of possibility: work, love, property. You have been through the fire and are a bit worse for wear, having seen your dreams tarnished by a reality that did not mesh with your talents and interests. Yes, you are grateful. They are hungry. You watch as your faculties fade away, like the parts off an old and dying car. The lights go dim and then burn out, the chrome mirror loosens and then falls off. They want what you have taken years to learn. You want to be left alone to brood on your losses. It's no longer a good match, not quite a symbiotic exchange any more. You have begun to reside in another place as the shoehorn of decline sidles up to you and begins to pry you free whether you like it or not.