Transcript
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I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. A friend of mine said recently, you seem younger now than when I met you. It's like you're reverse aging. I laughed. I'm not reverse aging physically, mind you. I have more lines around my eyes than ever before, and some new ones around my mouth too. The poet in me takes some pleasure in the terms for these wrinkles, crow's feet and marionette lines. It helps me to remind myself that all of this is from smiling. It's all evidence of joy etched into the face. I've worn flowers for almost 49 years. If there is going to be evidence of any emotion on my face, let it be joy. I think what my friend meant by reverse aging is that my spirit seems lighter. It feels lighter. But why? My life isn't easier than it was when I was in my twenties. I'm solo parenting two kids, I'm self employed, my parents are aging, my house is aging, I'm aging. I have more big adult challenges than ever. But most days, not all days, but most days, I feel lighter. How strange that with more burdens to carry, I feel less burdened. It doesn't make sense. The only way I can explain it to myself is that with age comes perspective. I know what matters, and I really do try to let the rest go. Midlife has upended everything I thought about aging. It's not at all what I expected. Certainly when I was a child I thought of people in their 40s as old, and now that I'm closer to 50 than 40, I laugh at that. I feel young. I feel younger in many ways than I did 10 years ago. I admire how today's poem describes time and what it feels like to reach the middle of one's life, only to be surprised at what you find. Midlife Crisis by Jane Zwart Some rivers you put into trusting to the livery downstream, to the hirelings who will wade into the shallows and hand you from kayak to bank. I thought that was the deal I'd made with time, that I would live until interrupted, that I would be swept where the current said and at the last a light. How strange then to learn that being was a palindrome. I'd read to its hairpin middle I thought it was a river. How strange hull spun on a backwater to learn that my route ran out and back to feel myself grow younger. I did not think I would yearn for the silver to change, to rust to be as beautiful bent double, unsteady again. Well, now I know the tributaries of Adam's ale Now unable to forget there will be an end with awful strength I row. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram @downdownshow and bluesky.downdownshow.org. Hey, it's Maggie. Every weekday, the Slowdown delivers the creativity and care of poetry to all free of charge, and your support makes it possible. Donating to the Slowdown is easy. Just go to slowdownshow.org/donate to make your gift in less time than it takes to listen to an episode.
