I shall go out in my slippers in the rain . . .

 

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple, 

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. 

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves, 

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. 

 I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired, 

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells, 

And run my stick along the public railings 

And make up for the sobriety of my youth. 

 I shall go out in my slippers in the rain, 

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens, 

And learn to spit. 

 You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat, 

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go, 

Or only bread and pickle for a week, 

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. 

 But now we must have clothes that keep us dry, 

And pay our rent and not swear in the street, 

And set a good example for the children. 

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. 

 But maybe I ought to practice a little now? 

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised, 

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

~Jenny Joseph, Warning, 1961 

I think somewhere along the line, I must have blinked, because all of a sudden I am old (er),  a senior citizen, in my dotage, in the Winter of my life, whatever it is you want to call it.  Nobody told me it would happen overnight, or if they did I wasn't listening, because here I am and it has. 

And my hands once full, are now empty. What I once had only read about and ignored, has now happened.  Its not fair really.  That we get wiser with age. But at least we get wiser, which I suppose is something!  

 

The funny thing is, I don't really feel all that different inside.  I feel the same as I always did, except I am a lot smarter about things now, and I have honed the art of discretion, or at least most of the time anyways. I am still quite capable of making bad decisions and choices, but I am perhaps a bit less impulsive. 

There are a lot of things I can get away with now that I couldn't have when I was younger, because well, I just don't care that much anymore about what other people think, or about being judged, coming up short, not making the grade.  I know my bus ticket has been punched. I have nothing left to lose really, except to start enjoying the ride in a way I never gave myself permission to before.  

When you are raising your family, you need to be the responsible one. To set an example for them.  To put their needs first.  It dawned on me a few days ago, I don't need to put anyone's needs first now, but my own.  That is an interesting awareness to come to. It seems like all of my life I have been caring for someone.  When I was a girl, I had to take care of my younger siblings because my mother worked, and then I got married, and I had a husband to care for and then children.  And I wasn't smart enough to get it right the first time, I had to get it wrong three times. 

And then I spent 20 years taking care of someone who really wasn't deserving of me.  And now I am 66, and am, for the first time ever,  alone in my life, in my home . . .  and if I want to walk around my house naked in the middle of the day smoking a cigar, who is there to stop me? (not that I would do that, but you know what I mean. I'm too smart to take up smoking cigars now.) 

And if I want to have one cat, or two cats or even ten cats (not that I would) there is nobody to tell me that I can't.  I have only me to please.  I can eat steak and chips for breakfast and cereal for supper and ice cream in between, with cake.  If I want to spend all day reading, or painting, or writing or dancing, there is nobody to get in my way.  I finally get to choose what is on the television and what gets watched or read or eaten or whatever. My life is my own to do what I want with, for the first time ever.  In 66 years.

I've been asked do I ever get bored, or lonely . . . I suppose everyone does from time to time. You can be lonely in the middle of a crowd. But no, I am not bored, or lonely. I have always enjoyed my own company. There are not enough hours in the day to do all the things I want to do, or enough days, or months or years. I have so many things that I want to do and only so much time left to get them done in.

I have lived through the bountiful fifties, the swinging 60's, the cold war, hot pants, the falling down of the Berlin Wall, the dawning of a new century, global warming and a world Pandemic . . . . well thus far anyways . . .  and can tell the tale.  I have become the old woman that younger people avoid because they are too busy to want to listen, and don't have the time. 

 

But I'm not wearing purple, and there isn't a red hat to be found within a mile of me. I'm a bit radical.  I want to wear a rainbow and dye my hair pink and I would wear a ring on my big toe if it weren't for my bunions.  I have even contemplated tattoos  . . . but then decided they are not for me. If I did get a tattoo, it would have to convey incredible meaning, and I haven't yet seen one that does. At least not for me.  

I've already forgotten more than I'll  ever remember. When I get down on the carpet to play with the kittens, I always hope and pray that I will be able to get back up again . . .  so I only do it near the coffee table which gives me some leverage, and if I have to roll over to get there, well what does it really matter!   And I watch birds, and I watch people and I am far too busy enjoying my life to be bored, or to get lonely. My days are filled with the excitement that pleases only me.  If others enjoy it also, then that's a bonus. But I'm okay with only me.

And maybe I will be remembered, and maybe I won't, but it doesn't really matter to me now, because I am too busy injecting all the joy that I can into this final phase of my life, and dwelling on the things in life that really matter.  And if I am remembered I hope that they say, 'she had fun while it lasted."

And who knew  . . . it really is the small things  in life that count the most! Youth really is wasted on the young, along with beauty and a whole lot of other things. Each day is a new adventure . . .  a gift waiting for  me to open it.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*.˛.You don't stop laughing because you grow old.

You grow old because you stop laughing.

~Michael Pritchard  •。★★ 。* 。

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Date Filled Drop Cookies.  Yummilicious!

I hope you have a great day. My sister is coming over and we are going to do some painting together. There is a new mini Monday madness we both want to tackle on YouTube. The best part will be doing it together!  Whatever you get up to, don't forget!

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And I do too!