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Life : My Future Life

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A Future Life
In a rocking chair even older than herself, she sits, her body as still as a river on a calm day. The bright light emitting from the large windows in the living room gives the figure of an old woman with grayish hair that hangs near her face. But, for her fingers progressing fast in an exact routine, as an array of different colorful stitches extends from the knitting needles. Tomorrow I will be able to start a new knitting project, maybe use the blue wool to make new sweaters for the grandchildren. An unexpected sharp thud of a knock was heard at the door; more than enough to be detected by my aging ears. As much as it bothers me to get up, I refuse to let the rattling pain in my bones win against me. It isn’t that I get up at all, it just feels more complex than before. I just can’t get up too quickly for a sharp pain may shatter me like glass. I allow my right leg to hold my weight as I move my left leg upright to hold more of my weight. Once, standing I slowly take steps moving forward and with every single step I take the cold wooden floor creaks. Growing old shouldn’t really stop me from doing the everyday things in life. They want us to give up and I simply can’t allow that. Yeah, I do gaze at the old woman in the mirror before me. At my age, I would have my feet hanging from the grave already. The lines in my face are so deep and saggy - like the skin no longer connects to the skull underneath. Beyond this mask of age, there remains the youthful

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