Granny
My friend, Sarah, who works as a nanny for two adorable girls, ages three and five, also coaches a girls’ volleyball team. Her two charges were with her at a recent game, one that I happened to see. When I walked into the gym, Lucy and Nora gave me excited hugs, causing the nearby referee to ask, “Are these your grandkids?” I am a grandmother, but I wasn’t aware that I looked like one. Until then. The question, one I have never before been asked, shocked me. And I was shocked that I was shocked. And then I was shocked that I was shocked that I was shocked…. You get the idea. This is my sixtieth year and I joke about being old, but I wasn’t aware that I really look old. I pushed aside my shock, gave the man an answer, and tried to...
Orphan
My parents both died on October 18, though eight years apart. Mother was buried in Raleigh, where I spent most of my young life. Daddy, though, had lived with me in Tennessee for his last two years, so I shipped his body to North Carolina to be buried next to his beloved. I was busy when I got to Raleigh, meeting with folks at the funeral home and at the cemetery to make final arrangements. A woman at the cemetery office said, “So, we’re burying your mother.” “No,” I said. “You already have my mother. My father is joining her.” I had already discussed our situation with these people over the phone and was surprised by the error. “Oh,” she said with great sympathy. “You’re an orphan!” What? I...
Wistful
The colors in the sky amaze me as daytime fades to the west. Shades of pink and gray are a beautiful contrast to the slowly darkening blue. Streaks of sunlight reach through holes in the clouds, looking like spotlights. What hidden wonders are they trying to uncover before the sun slips below the horizon? Everything I see is a wonder and I’m taking it all in during my evening walk. Not only the colors of the sky, but also the raucous mockingbird warning me away from her nest, the grass, flowers, and trees of my neighborhood, and friends in homes I pass. The sky is definitely the center of my attention, though; it makes me wistful. The thought of being in it, floating among the clouds, that heavenly place of beauty and peace, is appealing. An...
Buick
Buick is trying to change its image, based on recent commercials. No matter how much the styling is improved, though, a Buick will always be an old person’s car to me. After all, it’s what my dad drove in his eighties. When he died, I sold the car. Wasn’t old enough to drive it myself. The car looked—and smelled—like it it should be driven by a person with silver hair. I decided I would never, ever drive a Buick. Didn’t plan to get that old. But now, because I’m about to turn sixty, my husband says I’m, “Buick-worthy.” He shouldn’t be too surprised one day when he gets run over. By a little gray-haired lady…driving a Buick.
Different
When I returned home from a week away, I didn’t expect much to be different. Same husband, same dog, same cat, same house. I knew George would be wearing a different colored shirt and there would be a full basket of dirty clothes in our closet. Maybe a few more spatters on the bathroom mirror. But not much else. Yet, something was very different. I noticed it from the minute I saw George at the airport. He looked…well…older. How is that possible in six days? I didn’t plan to mention my observation to him. Most people don’t want to be reminded they’re aging. But I found myself staring at him for several days, wondering how on earth his mustache had turned completely white in only one week’s time. I finally could hold it in no...
Recent Comments