AGE and Dreams

"How can you be that old, that's my age!"  I said again at one of my children's birthday parties and it always causes laughter. Now and then though, I'd catch a glimpse of worry cross their faces. I would see it often too as they drove away after a visit, as they waved goodbye. They'd throw kisses and smile as they left, but probably all wondered, really how is she?
Well, you know as the parade of time flies by for me, no matter how old I get I can thank my God that I can still think young. Well why not, sometimes I even go so far as to think I'm still in my forties and fifties. And young and taut!
Years ago, a hundred it seems at times, things were so different and I was nesting happily. Bills were paid up with money in the bank. I shopped and cooked and tried new recipes and enjoyed my grandchildren. A bulge had started around my middle, but that was expected at this time and it was okay. Painting, planting, mowing, oiling and filling were just some of the numerous things that were miraculously done around my house and yard,without much notice.
Then abruptly, things changed and the love of my life died!  Now my constant companion was lonliness and sadness. And forgive me Lord, I felt so much anger. Here I had been so happy at last, and life was easier, why did this have to happen? 
I felt sorry for myself, after all, I was a good person; I didn't deserve this. How would I manage?  Who would hold me now and always be there to protect me from the three am demons in the night?
Worst of all, I had to live by myself, alone with me and the inevitable quiet that continued day and night without end. This was something I had never been faced with. 
Well, I prowled the house at all hours of the day and night, lost sleep, drove miles and wandered aimlessly trying to find a niche to fit into. I didn't have that safe cocoon I'd built around myself anymore, this was a different world!
Well, I survived but it wasn't easy. But I can acknowledge the changes I had gone through wth a smile, as the solitude in this house forced me to get to know the real me.  As over time I stuggled with self-worth, self-preservation and then of course, survivor's guilt. It took time and I started to write about my sorrow, and, I filled many tablets those first years. Which to this day I still write, but now it's for entertainment. 
Now, I cook if I please or buy take-out. I decide if I want to send Christmas cards or not. I can blare my music late in to the night or go to bed at six o'clock. And mportantly too, I have learned sleep in the middle of the bed!
So my number of years may be staggering kids, but my thoughts and feelings are alive and well, and again with a youthfull curiousity.

Circa 2005                                                                                          Lyn Lacoursiere