Janice’s mind was overwhelmed. Too much; too much. Was this what old age was? A vision of her favorite now dead uncle surfaced. She had spent the weekend with him when she attended her 50th high school reunion. They sat in his living room savoring a glass of wine before going to bed. “Old age,” he said.
"Old age what?”
“They say old age is the golden years. Bullshit I say. It’s more like the leaden years.”
More like the leaden years. Maybe he had it right. She had lost Charlie; Ellen lost Jared. Now Mazie. Clyde had leukemia-- the nasty kind. Two years tops.
“I don’t need this shit,” Janice said to her image in bathroom mirror. “Where is it chipped in stone that we should live like this? Struggling to keep death at bay?” She raised her arms, looked at her saggy breasts and baggy throat. Without warning from a book she read as a freshman in college sprang into her consciousness. “Live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse”. Her laughter burst out. “I guess I do need this shit more than I need to die. I am alive; I like being alive."
Minutes later she was on the phone. “Mazie, you want me to over for the night?"
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