The weekly prompt from my Florida writers’ group was to pick a famous saying or quote, and write a story about it. This is my offering—

“You can take it from me!” the old man says forcefully.  “Gettin’ old ain’t for sissies!”

“Yeah,” his middle-aged son says, scarcely looking up from his phone screen.  “Beats the hell out of the alternative, though.”

‘“Very funny,” the old man says, “an’ easy for you to say.  You’re too young to know the thing ‘bout gettin’ old is dealin’ with loss.  With nary a warnin’, we start losin’ all the things we always took for granted.”

“Like what?” his son says.  He’s sitting in the small suite the old man occupies in the retirement home, his father propped up in bed beside him.

“Everythin’!” the old man declares emphatically.  “Just lookit my skin, f’rinstance.  Used to be smooth an’ tight, now it’s all loose an’ wrinkled.  I look like a cheap suit!”

“That’s to be expected, Pop,” the son says distractedly, eyes still on the phone.  “You’re not a young buck anymore.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” the old man replies.  “An’ I’m also losin’ all my muscle underneath the skin.  I’m nothin’ but a bag of bones!”

“You look fine, Pop,” the son says, reaching to pat the old man’s arm reassuringly.  “Just older, that’s all.”

“Exac’ly!  An’ speakin of bones, I’m losin’ all the flex I used to have in ‘em.  All’s I got now is pain an’ stiffness.  Every time I look at myself, all’s I see is me losin’ more an’ more of what I had.”

“So then, don’t look at yourself so often,” the son says.  “Read your magazines, read the books I brought you.”

“Bah!  Easy for you to say!  I don’t see so good anymore, neither.  Vision loss is another thing I’m dealin’ with, an’ it ain’t nothin’ to celebrate, b’lieve you me!”

“Where are your glasses?” the son asks, thumbs busy on the tiny keyboard in front of him.

“Danged if I know!” the old man spits.  “Can’t ‘member where I put things the way I used to, neither!  Doc says it’s just normal mem’ry loss, caused by old age.  I used to prop ‘em up in my hair when I wasn’t wearin’ ‘em, but now that I lost all my hair, they just keep slippin’ off.”

“So, watch TV then.  There’s always something on the movie channels.”

“Yeah, I can still see the TV,” the old man concedes grumpily.  “It’s the up-close stuff I can’t see!  But nobody in them old movies talks loud enough!  I can’t hear a blessed thing ‘less I turn the volume way, way up.  But then the nurse comes in an’ switches it back down.  Gettin’ old means I got hearin’ loss, too!”

“Where are your hearing aids?” the son asks, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Where d’ya think they are?” the old man says.  “In my ears is where they are!  But they’re not workin’ right!  I gotta read lips to know what people are sayin’ half the time!”

“Have you checked the batteries?” the son asks, reaching for his father’s ear.

“Don’t touch me!” the old man says, flinching away.  “All’s I got anymore is pain everywhere.  Nurse says it’s just inflammation, it’ll go away.  But it doesn’t, dagnab it!  Pain is the only thing I don’t seem to be losin’!”

“Okay, Pop, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe you should change your attitude a wee bit.  Try to focus on the things that make you happy, the things that are going well.”

“Like what?” the old man says, somewhat miffed by the suggestion. 

“I don’t know,” the son replies, checking his phone again.  “There have to be some things that are going right for you.  Mark Twain once said, Getting old is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!  Try that on for size.”

When the old man doesn’t  answer right away, his son glances up from the phone, thumbs frozen in mid-stroke.  His father’s eyes are closed, his mouth drooping open, his arms still at his side.

“Pop!  Pop!” he yells, leaping from his chair.  “Pop!  Wake up!”  As he stands over his father, phone forgotten, he realizes how aged and frail the old man looks. 

Before he can do anything, however, the old man opens one eye.  “Got ya this time, didn’t I?” he chuckles, a rheumy sound from deep in his chest. 

“Jee-zus, Pop,” the son exclaims.  “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Yeah, well it’s your own damn fault, sonny-boy!  Tellin’ me to change my attitude?  Focus on good stuff happenin’ to me?  At my age?  I may be losin’ a lotta things, but I ain’t never lost my sense of humour!”

“You got me, Pop, I have to admit,” the chagrined son says.  Switching off his phone, putting it in his pocket, he adds, “So, besides your sense of humour, what else haven’t you lost yet?  I’m all ears!”

The old man smiles.  “Ain’t lost you,” he said, “an’ that’s the biggest thing!”