I remember that I was bewildered, because no one at that time seemed more clearly adult to me than my mother. I think that she must have spoken that day in a voice edged with fear and regret, because when I recall those words they seem to me to be the saddest words in the world. Some days, I myself feel so old, so full of knowledge that would once have eluded me; but on other days I feel young, and seeing the face of someone past adolescence, I feel a sinking terror, a fear that my mind will never catch up with my body, that time is sliding away from me, and that I am not changing as quickly as the moments do. Lately, those days have come to dominate. I look at the photos of myself from that party and this is what I see: I see a young man in the middle of a party as stunning as the feast day of an ancient king. I see him surrounded by many friends and a few lovers. I see him looking as though he is entirely in control, negotiating his family and overseeing the waiters and making introductions; he is evidently the master builder who has constructed everyone else’s delight. I see him utterly at ease, and clearly very happy. I see someone of vast competence, looking out at me from clear confident eyes. I look at him and I wonder who this young man is, not yet thirty, so sure of himself and of the world. I wonder what it would be like to be on top of the world like that, to have so much of what youth dreams maturity might hold. I look into his clear blue eyes and I envy him, because he is so full of laughter, because he seems not to know about or not to mind the effort life is, because he has the face of someone who has all the things that I have always wanted, but who couldn’t possibly care less about them.

IX: Inside the Shell

IX

INSIDE THE SHELL