Life Topics

Advice to Myself

I try to tame my wiry hair by running my shaking hand through it.  There’s no way to make sense of this mop.  Truthfully, I stopped trying a long time ago.  I’ve been gray since I was 50, over a half a century ago!  I have to chuckle because back then I felt old, having no idea.   I am alone in the world now.  My family is gone, my husband is gone, and I have only one child left who is in bad health. I brought him into the world when I was just 19 years old, and now he is about to turn 80 years old.  My other son died suddenly 20 years ago, but I cannot talk about it because it pierces my heart whenever I do.   I will put on some pink lipstick, as I’ve always done, and sit in my overstuffed floral chair by the bright window.  Lowering myself backward carefully with bended elbows, hands on each chair arm, I slowly shift myself into place.  Closing my eyes, I exhale a long breath.  Today, I want to re-visit my life, endearing experiences, tragic mistakes, and joyful moments.  See these ghosts that live with me in every breath.  Have a conversation with a person who will turn out to be me someday.  Advice after the fact and after a long time. Listen now.

You were careless and contrary.  Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten into?  You drove drunk in high school with a car full of friends.  You lived only for the moment, the party, the thrill.  Your Mom and Dad had guarded trust in you, and you stomped all over that.  They gave you the keys to their only car.  Were you unique in some way? Probably not.  Teenagers don’t anticipate or truly believe in consequences.  Punishment was like a far away shadow that doesn’t seem real, or really matter.  Ignore it and have a good time you thought.  So, what’s the problem?  Your actions put you in a place of depravity.  Be responsible and give yourself the grace that you owe yourself and others.

Have some self-respect and protect those you love. 


You were oblivious and self-destructive
.  As you entered your twenties, you dated the wrong men.  They were frequently handsome, funny, and overwhelmingly selfish.  Craving the love you were missing in your life, you would often seek out carefree players.  This would only contribute to your lack of confidence.  You were very pretty, yes, and there was never a time you were without a companion.  You were strong in many ways, but inside very weak.  This downfall lead you down the wrong path as you weren’t being your true self.  Until you met a controlling man who made you feel special, at least for a while.  That marriage taught you so much.  His voice rang in your head for years after it was over, “You’re stupid, you’re ugly, you’re crazy.”  He was a monster.  You learned a lifetime of lessons.

Have self-worth and an undying spirit to fly anywhere you want.

 

You were inexperienced and ignorant.  Raising your children was a struggle as a single mother.  Making ends meet was very difficult.  Every day was a battle to keep your head above water, racing to work, and racing home.  They were brilliant children.  They loved to play and hike and explore.  We had so much fun together.  But, you weren’t perfect by a long shot, no parents are.  You would shout or lose patience without stopping to think.  Think about how this made them feel.  Punishing your son, and later finding out it was his father who told him to lie.  You were devastated.  It wasn’t his fault.  You were a young mother with little resources to offer, only a heart full of love.   Which is more than some parents have.  You were scattered and unfocused much of the time, juggling work, dating, and children.   Yes, you always put your kids first after sorting out other influences, other attractions.

Forgive yourself and others, focus on what’s important.

You were trusting and naive.  After years of failed relationships, you met the man of my dreams.  He checked all the boxes and then some.  There were no lessons to learn, and you seemed to have it all together.  But even a perfect situation deserved additional attention.  The scars from your marriage ran deep and you had to relearn critical nuances in communication.  He was loving and patient and brought out the best in you.  He would challenge you and make you look within yourself.  However, sometimes your baggage would disrupt an innocent conversation.  It could be tough to understand what something meant, and that was confusing.  You had never had a real partner before.  There was nothing I would change about this choice; he brought you the happiness you deserved for so long.  But, there was a learning curve where you needed to be more giving and open. Over time, you learned to dance together, feeding your emotions of joy through commitment.  We had a happy marriage.

Invest in those you love, be vulnerable and honest.

I start to nod off in my chair as the sun shifts to early evening.  There are more shadows in the room than light.  My thoughts fade in and out, as I remember the sweet smile of my husband, and the laughter of my children.  My heart aches for the happiness that spilled through my fingers, feeling grateful at the same time.  All these memories bring me to a place that is almost unfamiliar.  Time has dulled many details like the warmth of my parents’ hugs, the softness of my dog’s coat and the excitement of a first kiss.    All I have is this room, this chair and these memories.  This girl turned out okay without the guidance of an old woman.  A woman who unrealistically thinks her life could have skipped heartache and pain.  Emotions that helped build a foundation of who I would become, how I learned, and where I would go.  This “advice” I wanted to give doesn’t really matter.  It was her journey full of faults and mistakes that was predestined.  I needed to fall along the way to have the strength to turn my head toward the light.

Have an open heart and live a good life.

 

Life Topics

The Mask

Slathering the grey cream all over my face, I give myself a facial that will turn green on contact.  A goolie look I must admit.  All to make my lines, sags and wrinkles disappear from this 59-year-old facade.  Can I be so naive?  Yes, because there was a promise in the bottle, a resound commitment of improvement.  I have to give it a try because of all the years of damage and neglect etched all over my face. I look into the mirror and can make out the cheek bones I used to have, the forehead lines and the mess under my eyes that are visible under the mask.  In 40 minutes, I will wash it off and be beautiful.  They said so.  I guess this is called a “beauty routine.”  It’s an exercise that continues to disappoint.  My face will always be my face.

I’m not dissatisfied with my looks.  With each line and wrinkle, I’ve thanked God for letting me grow old, accepting the consequences.  I’m more than a pretty face.  As my weight has increase, my face has gotten bigger too.  Everything is more pronounced.  The lines where my nose meets my forehead are covered with my glasses thankfully.  A scarf can stylishly drape over the neck lines and keeping a straight face and not scrunching may help to eliminate new lines.  And maybe win poker games too.  Moving into my senior years has me wanting to erase mistakes; personal, professional, and facial mistakes.  Time to atone with toner.

After I rinse the mask, I look in the mirror and remember what I used to look like.  I remember a pretty girl with perfect skin and bright eyes.  She was carefree and thought she’d be 20 years old forever.  Years of sun damage, stress and even some sadness has reinvented her.  I really do love myself for who I am today.  All my experience and wrinkles have an important reason, waiting up for the kids to come home, working overtime, or caring for a sick child.  My face tells a story of someone who has lived a sometimes hard as well as comfortable life.  My journey has been grand and exciting, interrupted by moments of chaos and confusion.  It’s written all over my face.  And you can’t put that in a bottle.

 

Life Topics

His Hands

The skin on his hands were pale and paper thin
showing a tangle of blue veins.  Fingers longer and
thinner than I remember.  I stopped and stared at
the age spots and bruised skin of purple and blue.

Those hands changed my diapers, helped me cross
the street, tied my shoes, turned pages of a book
and spanked me.  I’m sure I deserved it.  My little
hand fit so well inside your warm fingers.

Now with weak hands, you reach for help and comfort.
We will hold them to support you, hold them to
assure you, to raise you up.  Our touch is compas-
sionate and real.  You’re never alone.

Daddy, when did you get old?  You didn’t warn me.
Signs of decay and weakness overlooked.
A gradual slowing down to a stop, to a chair and
to the bed.  Resting your hands or pressing them
together for prayer.

My life started with you and will end without you.
Nature sometimes sings a sad song you can’t conceive.
Those hands have always been a gift.  You lovingly used
them for giving, never for taking.

Life Topics

A Fabulous Retirement

I dream about retirement these days like a dog dreams about a bone.  That blessed and well-deserved day when I get to call it quits.  I imagine the leadup to “o-dark-thirty” may be stressful trying to wrap everything up for the next sap, I mean person, who takes over my job.  My boss will say, “Jo, make sure he/she is well trained…and will you be available if we have any questions?”  I’ll be like, “absolutely, and I will be around if you need anything”.  Right.  Of course, I would never leave anyone high and dry, but already my priorities have changed.  Sometimes learning OTJ is the best way.  I’d be doing them a favor if I was unavailable.  Baptism by fire and all that.  When I’ve finally fulfilled my parting duties, there’ll be no more looking at the clock, no meetings, no deadlines, no projects, no managing people and no boss.  A blissful life full of nos.  But even more so, a presence full of yes’, for anything I want to do if it’s within my newly fixed income.

I’m not what you would call a “planner.” So I may be in a bit of a financial crunch when I stop taking in my lucrative Public Access pay.  I could learn to live meagerly if I had to.  Coupons and day-old bread could be adopted into my routine.  On the bright side though, I’ll be rich with time and an overactive imagination.  Think of the possibilities!   Lunch with friends, reading novels, showering daily, writing stories, walking the dog, sitting in the sun, doing light chores, getting a haircut, maybe do artwork, plan get togethers and floss my teeth.  And, if I get even the slightest bit bored, especially with the personal hygiene, I can get a little part-time job for some pocket change and mental rescue.  As long as the job’s hours are short and flexible with an obscenely high pay rate.  I most definitely plan to live a dilettante life.

Who do I want to be when I’m done being a grown up; fabulous, absolutely fabulous.  My life of leisure will be outrageously delicious.  I will amusingly pretend to forget what day it is saying, “is it a weekday, or weekend day?” I’ll laugh as I say this, feeling clever and witty; feigning confusion.  I’ll be old enough to be excused for being obnoxious.  The only people who would take offense would be those who begrudgingly must work the next day.  Pontoon boat rides in the summer will be a daily activity, staying out late, as there are no more “school nights” to worry about.  Young people may seek my worldly, yet practicle, advice on everything from boiling an egg to changing their motor oil.  I’ll arrogantly think I have it all together, or maybe just bluff, like only a seasoned retiree can do.

I’ll have to wait a while to become that eccentric, retired old lady.  There is still a whole decade before I start to live this fanciful existence.  In the meantime, I’ll practice saying “get off my lawn!” and “God love ya’”.  There’s time enough now to start my retirement hobbies on the weekends to prepare the future.  As far as my job, I really like it and have little to nothing to complain about.  It has served me well.  My mid-life has had no crisis and is mostly unremarkable.  My fifties have been a training ground of fetching rocks and putting out fires, teaching me how to be a stronger woman. All these experiences have helped create a solid gateway to my next phase.  Afterall, a fabulous life must be built, it doesn’t magically happen one day.