Dear Mama,
I am getting old.
I guess it's inevitable, Mama. I am really getting old. Not just because I am turning 56 next month, I can really feel it, Mama. I am getting old.
This afternoon I was seated in front of a PUJ, beside the driver, on my way home after work. I happened to glanced at the side mirror, Mama and I saw my face - white hairs on my head, little hairs sprouting from my chin which are also white, and the face of an old, haggard, and defeated man.
I can only sigh, Mama.
And it's not just the physical features, Mama. I also get tired easily. Everyday I walk on my way to work and I feel tired once I reached our office. It wasn't like that before, Mama. On my way home after work, I often chose to ride the jeepney because it feels like I might not survive the heat of the sun if I walk. It wasn't like that before, Mama.
There's nothing I can do about it.
The only thing worse than growing old is growing old alone.
I wish you were here.
Daddy
