Homebodies - My view...from here

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Published on Saturday, February 25, 2017

By Rita Friesen

The Neepawa Banner

When I was a child, all adults appeared old. I would have referred to them as old, behind there backs! Now, when I do the math, I acknowledge that I was wrong. Very wrong. 

When I was 12, my mother was 36, my maternal grandmother was 71, and my paternal grandmother was 60. My mother had no age, she and her sisters were known for their laughter and love of family. At gatherings, we children were hustled out to play while the aunties sat in the big farm house kitchen swapping stories and keeping caught up with each other. (I was not the only youngster silently huddling around the second floor hot air register, eavesdropping on adult rated conversations!) 

In keeping with my annual mood of introspection, birthdays do that to me, the fact that my mother died at age 74, my maternal grandmother at age 87 and my paternal grandmother just short of her 90th birthday, are sobering. Mom, again, was neither young nor old, and my grandmothers were. I am fast approaching the age at which my mother died. And I don’t feel old either.

When kids see me, today, do they also see an old woman? I imagine they do. And if they could see me as I unfold after sitting in a car for several hours, they would be justified in their opinion! To the truly elderly, I appear young. And as my dogs and I gallop down the path, it would appear so. Perhaps that cements my desire to hang with the old folks.

A game people often play is ‘what age do you wish you were?’ I am absolutely content with the age I am. I do not want to go back a day. I loved being fit and athletic, a sportsperson. I loved being a wife and a mother, caring for a home and an active family of five children. I loved being a grandmother, playing childhood games and sharing confidences. I still love being a mother and grandmother and now, a great-grandmother. It’s okay to live alone, eat cake when I so desire and clean up the mess that I, and only I, made. I love the free time to read and think and simply be. Daily gifts that never fade. I stay up as late as I want and wonder how any senior makes it to the coffee shop by nine. I have become, am becoming, more accepting of my body. It’s got me where I am. I have become more accepting and forgiving of my mind. Thoughts flee and sentences are incomplete. The file folder is full!

The times my heart is heavy is when I reflect on the world my generation has created for the generations yet to come. How does a family eat well? Have the resources for recreation and holidays and hobbies? All facts of life I knowingly enjoyed. Thinking these thoughts I am thankful I am old….