Senescence

When you grow old...

The old woman was one of those increasingly rare few who lived to see well past a hundred years and well aware of her silent watcher always behind, patiently waiting. Oh, how she ached for the strength youth brought physically, emotionally, and mentally...
"You keep forgetting even though you've been visiting me more and more lately." The little girl lightly giggled, hugging a raggedy white teddy bear to her chest. "Silly old grandma..."
"It's your bedtime." The watcher spoke in a soft, stolid voice. "Goodnight, Jane Doe."
"Goodnight." The old woman and the little girl chorused, eyes closing.

(A short story born from one of my tries at a diatribe of the unequality and unfairness of life and time, my nervosity of aging and death, and my liking of personification and symbolism.)