Henry is running around the house with his brother and I yell at them to stop with the noise. They ignore me, taking over the administration of the living room. Their mother is in one corner enjoying the whole noise, or at least indifferent to it. By now, she is used to the ordeal of living with two young boys under ten. I’m on the computer and all I need is my serenity so I shout again. “Hey boys, unlike your grandmother, I don’t mind you running around as fast as you like, but please don’t make any noises.”
“It is Henry.” the brother screams.
“No, It is Oyin.” the other responds, and they resume the noise and the demonic speed all around the house.
I am peeved and I shut down my laptop and relocate to a different part of the house.
You see, this is exactly how people get old: new ones are born and they are so cute, and they take over all the attention in the house. They’re smart, they’re agile, and they are vulnerable. Yes, yes, they’re babies, and nephews, and nieces. And before you know it, the old guy is no longer the cutest boy in the house. Once upon a time, it was Laitan and I running around a far larger compound than this with dust on our brows and heels. Now she’s all grown and taken, Ha, and another aeon has gently replaced us.
This is exactly how people get old. What on earth happened here?