Sometimes I am afraid of getting old

I am a caregiver
So I see a lot of old people
I feed them and wipe them
I hold their fragile hands in mine like a whisper
I count lines in their faces
Most of my clients have dementia
So I repeat phrases over and over like an Anita Baker tune

I have damaged my back
Lifting them and turning and sitting them up
Sometimes they don't know who I am
I am afraid that I won't recognize my loved ones one day

I am afraid of looking into my son's eyes and only thinking
He is a nice enough man
Afraid he might drop me
Afraid he might become a stranger with my face wiping my face
Cleaning my feces
Moping my urine
What if I forget his name
My name
The day of the week
The president
That my favorite color is red

I love them
All of them
Ms. A will be 103 in September
She always tells me that I am a sweet woman
She tells me that she talks to her papa about me when I am gone
The kind worker I am
My sweet face and pretty dress
Ms. A does not know my name

Mr. K just turned 86 and is funny and tries to make me laugh
And so I laugh
He is confused when I take him in the bathroom to change him
I ask him if I may pull his pants down
He is private about his privates
I understand
He still has to be changed

Ms. R was always rude to me
Nothing I did was good enough
Her tone was always nasty
Her words were unkind
Until the day she died she was mean
What if I am like her I think sometimes
What if I am so mad at God
For sentencing me to days and weeks and months in bed
That I spit in faces hired to care for me
I don't want to be Ms. R

Mrs. C was my favorite
We went for walks
And she would kiss the flowers on our path
Tell the dogs that she loved them
Tell me she loved me too
Maybe I could be Mrs. C

In two months I will turn 50
My hair is turning gray
My waistline is disappearing
My knees ache a bit
My son reminds me that I told him this story or that before
I wonder who I am turning into
Wonder if I will be a joy or a burden
Wonder if grandchildren will want to hear my stories
And fix my hair
Watch detective shows with me

Mr. P used to remind me that getting old ain't for sissies
And I understand
Can only imagine the courage it takes to not remember yesterday
Or an hour ago

I have chosen to live in the moment
Appreciate the blessing of 49
I stare at my reflection and appreciate this new woman
With hair thinner than before
With charcoal under my eyes
And flesh under my chin
She is beautiful I think
And I let go my fears
One after the other
They melt away like easy as cotton candy in the rain