I Know I Am Getting Old

"Independent Living" and Being Old

The Old Sycamore Tree

I know I am getting old
Wendell Berry

I know I am getting old and I say so,
but I don't think of myself as an old man.
I think of myself as a young man
with unforeseen debilities. Time is neither
young nor old, but simply new, always
counting, the only apocalypse. And the clouds
—no mere measure or geometry, no cubism,
can account for clouds or, satisfactorily, for bodies.
There is no science for this, or art either.
Even the old body is new—who has known it
before?—and no sooner new than gone, to be
replaced by a body yet older and again new.
The clouds are rarely absent from our sky
over this humid valley, and there is a sycamore
that I watch as, growing on the riverbank,
it forecloses the horizon, like the years
of an old man. And you, who are as old
almost as I am, I love as I loved you
young, except that, old, I am astonished
at such a possibility, and am duly grateful.

This morning I had a talk with an old friend of mine. He knows that I am in Independent living and he is aware that I fractured my hip. Neither of us is happy about being old but we know that it's better than the alternative. Even though he does not have a hip fracture, he has endured surgery and feels an ongoing sense of anxiety and some depression both of which we share in common.

I like the facility in which I am now living. On the other hand, and I write this with a sense of humor, there are too many old people here. But, speaking in a more serious way, my fellow residents are nice people, and the staff is very helpful.

As a youngster, I would look at my grandfather, and we called him "Pop," and his brother Hymie, and feel sorry for them because they were so "old." I was a naive child, new little about life and now I am old. Yet, my mind and intellect are intact and for that I am grateful..

Wendell Berry'ss poem I Know I Am Getting Old explores themes of aging, time, and love. The poet acknowledges that he is growing older but does not consider himself an old man. Instead, he still sees himself as a young person facing unexpected physical challenges. Even as people age, they may continue to feel youthful, even though their bodies inevitably change.

Berry describes time as something that is always fresh and constantly moving forward. He refers to it as the only apocalypse, meaning it is the one unstoppable force that alters everything. While people experience youth and old age, time itself never slows down or stops—it simply renews and moves on.

The poet also reflects on clouds and the human body, pointing out that neither science nor art can fully explain them. Some aspects of life, including the process of aging, remain unpredictable and beyond human understanding. He notes that even an aging body is, in a way, new because it has never existed in its current state before. The body is always changing, growing older yet always unfamiliar.

Turning his attention to nature, Berry describes a sycamore tree growing along the riverbank. As the tree expands, it blocks more of the horizon, much like how the passing years limit what an aging person can see and experience. This imagery suggests that growing older gradually narrows one’s perspective, just as a tree growing taller changes the view of the landscape.

In the final lines, the poet speaks to someone he loves who is also aging. He expresses that his love for this person remains as strong as it was in their youth. However, he marvels at how love endures through time and change. His words convey a deep gratitude for a love that remains constant despite the inevitable passing of years.