How terribly strange


I remember lying on my mother's bed, looking out
the window at the snow falling, listening to Bookends
and thinking only about how sad the music was.

I didn't even know exactly what those boys
were singing. How could I know or imagine ever being seventy?
But I thought, even then, what a rare thing it would be
to have a friend with whom you'd spent years together,
sharing a park bench with you at seventy.

So, I guess that means I was thinking about what those
boys were singing after all and not just about how sad
the song was or how much it made me feel better to feel
sad like that. Melancholy. Filled with longing. Filled
with an aching. Oh, those boys.

My radical wild moon woman friend and I once talked about
a picture a friend of hers took of two old women walking the beach.
She said, That's us. We'll be doing that.

I hope we will.

It does seem so terribly strange to be 50 (will be in just a few
weeks). Everyone on staff is so much younger than me.
The oldest person is 14 years younger than me and the youngest
is 26 years younger. I wonder if they see me as an "old" woman.

So many changes for me. So many things to be grateful for.
So many other things that sadden me and are heavy on my heart
tonight. The death of a young man. The losing of friends.
The passing of years.

I hope I can hang with it all. Fatigue wants to claim me.


I think the loss of my job took so much out of me on a
cognizant level, an intelligence level, an emotional level,
and certainly on a physical level.

Gotta regroup and hang with it.

Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'. I want to get busy livin'.