It 11:30PM, my husband is down in his work room and I sit here at the computer. Have you ever noticed how many odd things go through your mind when you are alone, but you really have nothing to do but to sit by yourself.
It’s not that I’m really alone, John is within hearing distance if I really needed him, but he is also working on building a circuit board for some machine he is building and creating a computer program to run it. (He really doesn’t need my weird ramblings interrupting.)
Anyway, I began to think about my trip to see my daughter next week. She lives in Jacksonville. She is my oldest. She is about to turn forty. It’s odd, I thought, how could she really be turning forty?
I mentally did the head slap thing and the duh, because I was there. I held that baby that was chubby, pink, and cried all the time. She wasn’t a very happy baby. I was twenty-two.
Now, you would think I would have thought of this long ago, and the thought has passed idly by at times, but I never dwelled on it. If she is forty, then I am forty years old too.
Damn!! I am sixty-two years old. I remember when someone who was thirty seemed old. I remember thinking how long I had till my children were all in school. Does any one out there know what I mean?
I had four children in 5 years. When Jen went to school, I sat there and rejoiced. Now don’t get me wrong, I missed my baby. I cried when she went to school that day, but I also took a mental sigh. Only three to entertain through the day.
When my second child went to school, a year later, it was a little harder, but not unbearable. When my third went to school a year after that, I looked at my baby and said, “It’s just you and me now.” He laughed and hugged me.
Two years later my youngest went to school, I walked with him up to the door and opened it. He looked at me. “Mommy, I’m a big boy now. I can do this by myself.”
I cried for the rest of the day.
My ranting has probably thrown everyone off track to the point that you have no idea where I’m going with this. I can’t say that even I do.
I am getting older. I don’t feel older inside. Outside, I am beginning to look like an aging woman. I understand that my time on this earth is getting less and less and sometimes I wonder if my grandchildren will remember me. My hair has gone from chestnut to white. My husband is grey, but still has all of his hair. I think that as long as we remember to live a full life, and not give up, even though our body’s are slowing down, we don’t need to act old.
My chronology may be getting up there, but I’ll stay young in my heart. I hope to pass that on to my kids. I refuse to become morbid as so many of those of my age. I refuse to start looking at downward slide everyone is so anxious to remind me.
I’m not in this alone. Even though I am alone tonight. I am not alone.