I have no regrets at all. None. I consider myself to be the luckiest old broad on two feet. @bettywhite
I am working on my third orthopedic surgery in as few as…6 months. I am also working on a good case against…growing old. As I sit with leg up, staring at the fake neon stars that I have plastered on my ceiling…I am chased by the ghost of…Ruth past…
A woman of vim and vigor. Outdoorsy and often likened to a forever Phys. Ed., teacher. No matter the meditation…gratitude can be so fleeting but dejection of self can be so…easy. So basic. As simple as, preferring rain over a sunny day.
However, in a spurt of wisdom, years ago, I choose an advocate. She is my wife. She is my life. And, certainly, she sets my shit straight when it starts to go awry!
Recently, out of the blue, whilst I sat in the blues…She said to me,
‘Even with your hair unwashed, bad breath and hopped up on pain medications, you inspire me. Hard to believe your cynicism grows sexier as you grow older!’
Alas, on that note…a thought from Dear old Ben,
The Paradox of Older Women and Young Girls! You choose!
- Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are better stor’d with Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreable.
Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their Influence over Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of Utility. They learn to do a 1000 Services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good Woman.
Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc’d may be attended with much Inconvenience.
Because thro’ more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent Suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your Reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the Affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin’d to excuse an old Woman who would kindly take care of a young Man, form his Manners by her good Counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.
Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part: The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.
Because the Sin is less. The debauching a Virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for Life unhappy.
Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may give you frequent bitter Reflections; none of which can attend the making an old Woman happy.
8thly and Lastly They are so grateful!!”
A hand thin as, ash
Frail, as the silk from a spider’s web.
delicate in haste,
flesh, milky, freckled, never a gesture in waste.
In indiscriminate ways,
these are the vestiges that cannot warn of lukewarm days.
As sun leathers a journey,
What kind of peace is this
gesturing moments…both near and far.
a rain’s soaking martyred mage.
Vintage dowry, turns the page.
To carry on carrying…a hollow heart.
Empty ‘cept for blood from stones
the rare fresh start.
Ironic those vanquished sets of hands,
solitary yet grand.
From here to infinity…
Hand me downs, love in transparency.
Cupped in goodness,
praying to accept what is melancholy.
On rare occasions we see someone for the first time, again! Like a love lost that walks back into your life after life has settled.
A stranger who has brought about every emotion known to woman-kind. Love, hate, wonder, awe, anger, pain. A symphony of bad times lightly riddled with lyrics of the moments when times were good.
As a child my mother was as vast as the ocean and as deep as the sky so alluring and blue.
As an adult, wandering through life, we all forget where the magic happened. If we are lucky and graceful enough we allow a slight opening in the walls we have built up over the years of living.
As an adult, I saw my mother today. Beautifully strong. Slightly composed in her spirituality and slightly erect in her character of being. It took a brief moment. A flash by the passenger side window. The rain splashed up and created a drift. Catching all encased in driving to sit quietly for the smallest moment in time.
A time where we all, all women, all carrying the weight of should have been done and should have been.
I saw my mother, again. My tiny dancer. My heart skipped a beat. Weathered into a wonderful combination of style, humor and second chances lady of grace.
And, for just a that blink of an eye, I remember what she had placed me here for. To follow her guide. To be what is right.
To only be half the woman she has been for me would be an injustice to the questions she encouraged me to find answers to