Nearly Nothing

When I was young, I couldn't imagine wearing the shoes of the old. I'd wonder what they'd all been through. Watching field and creek turned into mayhem. Hovering above frantic streets. How would it feel watching love and loved ones die? How would it feel to have outlived relationships and memories? To be the very last of your kind. Now I'm in the midst of the final walk. I better understand why old folks talk lovingly of yesterdays. How they earned those magnificent crow's feet. I understand the million steps it takes to finally bow the gait. The reason for the long pauses between thoughts. The patina stare that holds volumes of stories. Heavily dog eared with lessons from hardship and loss. I know much more than I used to. but it still amounts to nearly nothing.