Growing Old

18 years is all it takes. Once you are 18 years, you stop aging until you find your soulmate. Once you find your soulmate, you can both grow old together. It’s a perfect utopia for some. For me, it’s not. I aspire to find my soulmate. I don’t know how to search or what to look for.

My friends from kindergarten agreed to never grow old without each other. One person grew up with his wife. Another guy grew old with his beloved dog. That one girl from 1st grade… found love in 2nd grade and soon moved out of my life when she was 18. I met a guy in middle school, he was a great friend. Turns out he had gray hairs at 20 years… after his cat died he stopped aging. So many romance stories, I am never part of them.

Love isn’t on my agenda. Love would only permeate feelings and emotions throughout myself and I would care too much. That’s not to say I haven’t dated or tried to find a love for my soulmate. I’ve tried, I’ve failed, I gave up. I would get up and see couples on the street. My community usually had frail and old men and women, everyone had a soulmate here. I was an outcast by my neighborhood. They tried not to see me without a soulmate, however the signs were obvious at times.

The oldest people on the block had a mother who baked all sorts of cookies and a father who painted for a living. They were too old to walk on two feet, not to mention they were wrinkly and had gray hairs over themselves. I would affably talk to them. Showing good discretion towards them. They were loving and caring, I was a child to them. However, they treated me as the child I am. The lady would bake cookies and frost “Love” or “Finding” on them. I caught onto the hints quickly.

The man was worse. He’d ask me to stay still for a portrait. He would paint me and a random lady they saw walking next to me towards my house. I was confused on who the ladies in the portrait were sometimes. The tacit hints got to me in a way. I wouldn’t confess to them but rather thought to myself.

I did want love. My parents died since they found each other. My friends are gone since they all spent their lives with their soulmates. My sister turned 20 and, since she found her soulmate, started growing weaker by age. I was born 7 years before her, I still looked like I was 18. I had no one left except the elderly couple.

Soon they died. First the husband, then the wife a few days later. I was devastated, I couldn’t operate. I started lacking in my job and soon got fired. My repertoire was small, I couldn’t get back on my feet that easily. My neighborhood held a small ceremony for the elderly couple’s death. They obligated me to clean their house.

A day after the ceremony, I went to their house. I opened to a darkened environment. It wasn’t bright and lively anymore. I roamed to the kitchen. All her baking supplies were out. She still had cookies on the tray. It must’ve been stale by now. I went down to the basement to see all the paintings the husband did. His older paintings were on smaller canvases and in notebooks. The larger portion of portraits were me with random ladies and men. I was embarrassed, however… happy he had thought of me finding my love soon. I could feel myself tear. They had to have at least 20-30 paintings of me. Some were of his family, others were of me with them. Most were of me finding love.

His chaste personally. I missed them. I wish I could have them back, that’s too selfish to wish for. They probably wanted to die together and live in peace among the stars.

My thoughts were interrupted by a small rustle in a dark corner. I was not aware someone else was here. I took a cautious approach towards the noise. A few steps towards the rustle, a canvas of the elderly couple fell onto the ground. I rushed to pick up the painting and noticed a small note behind the canvas.

I could tell the wife wrote this. Her handwriting was like cursive, only more legible to read. It was eloquent and magnificent to read. The note was larger than I’d expected.

Todd, our beloved Todd.

Todd? That was my name. Was this note intended for me?

I do believe we have died, sorry for your loss in advance. This note was made to tell you, we want you to possess the homestead and our lovely son. We may have not told you about him, he was very shy around new people and didn’t return to us when you arrived here. Both Don and I know you have not found a soulmate, maybe this will change that. Do not forget we love you very much, our last years were the best because of you. Take care of yourself and of our son. He would be very lonely without us too.

With love and hope, we will miss you.

From, Hillary and Don

You can see the difference between their handwriting. I saw a small dampened spot, a tear of mine. I folded the paper following the creases and placed the note in my pocket.

Son? I don’t remember hearing about their son. They had two daughters, both grown up and lived away from their parents with their soulmates. I don’t remember anything about a son. The rustling grew louder until knocking a loud steel bowl of water. The splash hit the painting and ruined it. I felt angered, I don’t know who did it though. I went closer to the bowl and noticed the open window. I close that as well.

A soft mew came from under the desk. My brain could only think of their son. I knelt to see a small calico kitten meowing for help. My thoughts fled away and focus onto the kitten in front of me. I looked on the tag.

Ace. Ace was their son? Why would they ask for this? I don’t see why they would trust their decision onto me. Ace’s tag had their phone number and their address, this had to be who they referred.

I had no where to run and I can’t break the couple’s hearts. I took the cat in for my own. He was so cute as he tried to climb the stairs. He would slip and fell onto the steps below. I swooped in and carried him up. A few days turned by and I noticed he really liked chicken. Funny, we both love chicken. I bought chicken for weeks on end. He started to love my delicious chicken nuggets in cat-safe breading. It was a hit with the neighborhood stray cats as well!

I started to grow really close to Ace. When I was sick, he stood close and made sure I would get better. When he was sick, I helped him to the vet and had him fixed up immediately. Although, he never liked the vet. The vets were nice enough to feed and pamper while he stayed for the hour. Ace would walk with me when we went out. He’d follow me and allowed me to be myself. He wouldn’t leave the house anymore, he’d stay close to me. Those days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. Months to years.

He was the best. He trained himself to walk up the stairs. However, I grew more tired as I went up. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. A gray hair. A gray hair was on my counter. I looked in the mirror to see I had gray, aging hair. I looked at Ace who walked away. He went back down the stairs. I finished brushing my teeth and heard a soft meow downstairs. I followed the sound and saw him waiting for his food.

One year turned to two. Two to three. Three to five. Five to ten. His system started failing, his joint grew weaker and weaker. Ten years went to 15, this is when he needed medicine for his joints. He had trouble going up the stairs now. He had trouble walking in general. 15 to 20, I grew weaker as well. His legs stopped functioning and I had to get constant pills and surgery. I had a head of gray hair. Ace, he was aging too.

He collapsed one day. I took him to the vet and the vet euthanized him. He grew too old with me. He was my soulmate. I missed him, I missed the couple as well. It was the best experience I could have felt. I found my soulmate, and he died happily.

I felt my knees go weak as well. My time has come as well. Goodbye. I’ll see you soon, Ace.