Your Former Subject

When I was young, I used to mentally age people. In classes, at parties, anytime I was bored, I would stare at people and imagine them old. Young beauties would coarsen and thicken, frown lines deepened and erect spines became bent. I did it with strangers as well as intimates. With the latter, as my knowledge of the individual grew, my vision would alter to adjust to new insights: smile lines crinkled around the lips, botoxed foreheads would stiffened, or thick muscles turned wiry.

I am older, and this game no longer interests me. Perhaps it is because my friends are becoming old and so the exercise is rendered useless. I can stare down at my still child-sized hands and see my own skin engraved with time. Now, I find myself imagining people as they were when they were young. Sometimes this is easy, such as when people are eating ice cream or a fresh custard bun. Other times it is like chiseling marble, trying to find the perfect form lying within. I have to remove the make up, the suit of armor, the practiced poise. In the end, I find the child: happy or frightened, but uninhibited. I see him or her squatting down engrossed in the movements of a caterpillar, anxiously anticipating the comforting arms of a late parent, or frustrated by the lack of freedom on the first day of school.

Now, when I look at you, who I have grown to know so well, time collapses into a kaleidoscope of known and imagined journeys. You were, perhaps, an uncoordinated, shy child who lived mainly in a constructed world made safe by the accumulation of facts and the calculation of figures. You were uncertain physically, and this made you charming to adults, but a target to other children. Like most children, you could be lovely. You could also be intolerant, impatient and demanding. As you grew older you became stronger. You pushed yourself in every way imaginable. Your focus was always yourself; all paths led inward. As an old person, you will stand tall, physically and intellectually strong, but your face will bear the lines of an emperor whose kingdom has migrated away.