Old As Can Be

    Old as can be.
    I feel the need to shave, but I don't know how. No one ever taught me. The mirror above the sink whispers, "Where did these wrinkles come from?" I'm starting to panic. I vomit. Stand back up, and now things are blurring. I look at the orange mess in the toilet and make out a pair of glasses sinking in it. Must be mine. Guess they fell off. While washing them, my hands begin to ache. A dull throb turns into pins and needles.
    The smell is gone now that I've flushed. Hope that doesn't happen again. The mirror says, "Stay calm, breath. Breath."
    Who is this old man in front of me. Staring at me. I'm just a kid. My hair is not white and missing. It's blond and full. I have freckles not liver spots.
    Why can't I stand up straight? I want to go back to swimming in the creek. Now I'm here.
    Now I'm here?
    Still staring at him. He looks a little dead. I don't want to be dead. Old people scare me. I take the glasses off and break them in half. My hands still ache. Now I only see fuzz. Mirror shows me beyond the old man to the street outside the window. There's a blurry yellow form out there waiting for me. Or him? I briefly ponder what it could be. Oh well, my glasses are broken. I'm all alone. Desperate, broken and alone. Desperate to get out of this bathroom and back into the creek. That cool, clear water. Water.

    I don't think I'm going back.
    "No son, you can't. It is over." Old men can be so mean and nasty.
    I'm watching him grimace when the mirror shatters. Sharp edges all over. My chest closes in on itself, and my blood is tight. The floor meets my head as I topple down. Crumbling beneath my weight. Dark spots show up and appear to dance inside the blur of what little vision I have left. My muscles cramp, and I s**t my pants. Haven't done that in a few years.
    "Slipping away?"
    Darkness folds in around me. My hand lies to my right, and I'm relieved to see it as my own hand again, not the old man's. It has no wrinkles, no spots, no age; the ache has all but disappeared. I'm still the child I was, and I'm happy to leave this place. The bathroom fills with creek water. Cool, clear water. Dark is replaced by light. Stark returns to bright. Tiles dissolve into a lattice of trees back lit by the late evening sun. Beams on my bare skin, and the feeling of a young smile is found accustomed to my face. I hear boyhood friends laughing and splashing. Bouncing and cracking on. I close my eyes. His voice bids me farewell.
    "Go on boy. You are on your way home."
    His voice begins to fade along with everything else. I'm still smiling. He's barely there, but he gives me the truth as I leave him behind...
    "Don't you dare fool yourself into thinking anything in life matters as much as death."