His eyes sweep the coffee table, taking in the piles of books, the
envelopes, the dust. For a moment, I regret I didn’t put them away
earlier, didn't polish the surfaces.
His gaze returns to rest on me calmly, as if he hadn’t been collecting
information for our younger colleagues to talk about. I recall one of
the others telling me he’d noticed I kept an atlas on my desk for
seven years. What of it? What else could I do before Google maps?
We, the older generation, have become something to be observed,
monitored, talked about. She writes haiku, they say, raising their
eyebrows knowingly, exchanging glances. She’s aged…
I remember how we watched our children and our friends’ children,
amused ourselves with their quirkiness, their funny ways, we mimicked
their manner of speech; we wondered at the milk teeth, marvelled at
their rate of growth. Now they amuse themselves observing us. We meant
well, and so do they, I am sure.
the Earth revolves
round its axis –