Debit and credit. I want them balanced, or as nearly as I can make them. As I get older, though, the debit column gets more substantial. At 76, I begin to lose more things than I gain. I find I’m being asked to relinquish aspects of myself. I begin to realize that they’ve been on loan. Things like dexterity. Balance. Reaction time. Good vision. And, of course, memory. The loan officer comes to repossess them. He comes brandishing a list of physical and mental powers that now, officially, belong to him. They always did, of course, but I was under the mistaken illusion they were mine. They never were. I try to protest, but he simply goes about his business of taking things back. “Just following orders,” he says. “Nothing personal.” It is, though.
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