Older woman

 

I remember the way I looked at older people, especially women, when I was a child.

I grew up surrounded by women of all ages, mother, grandmother, aunts, great aunts, and all the ladies in the nursing home my grandmother ran.

I thought they were fascinating, but mostly not well educated. It was the men in my life who were that. I think we are escaping from that one.

I believed older women were quiet, kind, a bit childish, preoccupied with how they and everyone around them looked and mostly resigned.

Resigned to a life I knew I did not want.

I did not want to look like a sweet white haired old lady with children's barrettes in her hair. I did not want to sit and knit or garden or watch soaps all day long. I did not want to get up and go to bed at absurdly early hours. Some of the most beautiful parts of life take place deep in the darkness.

I did not want to pretend I couldn't do things I could, or be things I wasn't.

I was appalled at the way older women were treated less like adults than older men.

I thought all older women loved to cook and bake and sew and I tried to cultivate those things, but I am tired of all of them now. I've done that, been there and now I want good conversation, interesting books, good restaurants, trips to museums and a chance to be artistically creative.

I do not feel the need to go to church, nor do I suffer fools gladly.

I have lived long enough to know most of the ways of the world and I've chosen the ones I like.