Not Anymore

A younger man came by to look at the gutter and facia work on the front of my house.

He set the ladder up and climbed it quickly, and then asked me:

“Why don’t you fix it? You’re still climbing ladders every day.”

I laughed.

In my younger years I would’ve most definitely tried to do some of the work. I had cleaned my gutters in years past.

“Not anymore,” I said. “I’d rather pay you. You actually know what you’re doing.”

Then, as Saturday rolled on, we caught a few shows and a movie.

My phone rang at 7:30 p.m.

“Who’s calling now?” Kathy asked.

As if it were midnight.

“Remember when we’d go out drinking on a Saturday night? Kathy asked. “Stay up until 4 in the morning?”

“Not anymore,” I said.

There’s so much to it too.

I once ate a full pound of pasta.

Not anymore!

Used to get up on Sunday mornings and head out to rec league basketball.

I truly miss that.

Not anymore!

A knock on the door by friends? Just stopping over?

That’s not happening anymore.

When we were kids that was how my parents entertained. Friends or family would just swing by. Food would be ordered, drinks would flow.

Now if there’s a knock on the door we all look at one another.

No one is swinging by anymore.

And I’m perfectly fine if my phone never rings again for a voice call.

I’d much rather text now.

Long, drawn-out telephone conversations don’t happen too often anymore.

That’s how it goes.

“I can get it done for you in a couple of weekends,” my gutter man said. “You can just hang there on the ground. When I’m your age I probably won’t want to climb anymore either.”

“Good enough.”

At nearly 9:30, Kathy asked a question.

“Want to get another movie?”

“What time will it be over?” I asked.

“Like 11:15.”

“Man, I don’t know.” I said.

“You used to be up all night,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Not anymore.”