Old Girl Thinking
I always catch myself thinking how time flies too fast, at this time of year. I could almost swear that it feels like only a month ago, on last year's October, when I was thinking thoughts on turning 40, and how this number affects one's way of thinking.
I'd have to admit that being 40 is not really as alright as I make it out to be. Sure there are great things about it, but the alrightness comes coupled along with a certain uncertainty.
I, for one, get a real sense of my mortality.
Last year, my sister Susan Luis Aycardo, 36, passed away of cancer, as did a friend, Trisha Borromeo, who was only 33. I got to thinking then that people seem to be dying young these days. At the rate I attend funerals, I thought, maybe it's really the fricken cellphones, I knew it, I gotta keep my hands off the thing. Then again in this world, very seldom are there things that we enjoy that are not carcinogenic. Or if not from objects, then from toxic feeling and thinking. Or it could really be in the ether.
Then I lost my sense of invincibility.
That kind of hurt but it doesn't make a lesser woman out of me to admit. Sure my derring-do was so much more when I was younger, and there are absolutely a lot of things I would do before that I would in no way do today. Last year I finally gave up smoking, that being the last of the party favors that had to go over the years. Why? Because now I tend to listen more to my body than to the mirrored reflection of me.
And then, I just think more of them now, and less of me.
I picture my three daughters, marvel at their lives, and how I want to be around to take their pictures in all their milestone days. I wanna see how they blossom, then I will shamelessly bask on their reflected glory. I want my hand to be the one they hold when times get rough and they need a firm grip of support. Mostly I just want to be there for them, for as long as they need me.
Could I have lost my effectivity? Probably, and that is why at times I find it best to relax, stay still, and not do things just for the sake of proving things. Reliability on being consistent for me now takes the place of being effective.
I'm still way far from wearing sensible shoes and elasticized garter-waist pants, I hope, but surely, getting there has to be some kind of a ride. With my newfound sense of calm and caution, this old girl wants to arrive, hopefully holding hands with my favorite old boy.
Ah how quaint, the romance in the thought of growing old together, and I know I'm already halfway there. Time seems to fly so fast. And there's a certain uncertainty coupled with the feeling of this all-rightness. In a month I'm turning 41, but who cares? At some point, a woman will just have to stop counting. After all, what's with the numbers? It's really just that time of year ...
Filed Under: Life
I'd have to admit that being 40 is not really as alright as I make it out to be. Sure there are great things about it, but the alrightness comes coupled along with a certain uncertainty.
I, for one, get a real sense of my mortality.
Last year, my sister Susan Luis Aycardo, 36, passed away of cancer, as did a friend, Trisha Borromeo, who was only 33. I got to thinking then that people seem to be dying young these days. At the rate I attend funerals, I thought, maybe it's really the fricken cellphones, I knew it, I gotta keep my hands off the thing. Then again in this world, very seldom are there things that we enjoy that are not carcinogenic. Or if not from objects, then from toxic feeling and thinking. Or it could really be in the ether.
Then I lost my sense of invincibility.
That kind of hurt but it doesn't make a lesser woman out of me to admit. Sure my derring-do was so much more when I was younger, and there are absolutely a lot of things I would do before that I would in no way do today. Last year I finally gave up smoking, that being the last of the party favors that had to go over the years. Why? Because now I tend to listen more to my body than to the mirrored reflection of me.
And then, I just think more of them now, and less of me.
I picture my three daughters, marvel at their lives, and how I want to be around to take their pictures in all their milestone days. I wanna see how they blossom, then I will shamelessly bask on their reflected glory. I want my hand to be the one they hold when times get rough and they need a firm grip of support. Mostly I just want to be there for them, for as long as they need me.
Could I have lost my effectivity? Probably, and that is why at times I find it best to relax, stay still, and not do things just for the sake of proving things. Reliability on being consistent for me now takes the place of being effective.
I'm still way far from wearing sensible shoes and elasticized garter-waist pants, I hope, but surely, getting there has to be some kind of a ride. With my newfound sense of calm and caution, this old girl wants to arrive, hopefully holding hands with my favorite old boy.
Ah how quaint, the romance in the thought of growing old together, and I know I'm already halfway there. Time seems to fly so fast. And there's a certain uncertainty coupled with the feeling of this all-rightness. In a month I'm turning 41, but who cares? At some point, a woman will just have to stop counting. After all, what's with the numbers? It's really just that time of year ...
Filed Under: Life
Poppycock | 10/02/2004 |
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