There are huge groups of redhatted women at some of the theatre productions we attend. The classiness and variety of their outfits fills me with envy. Someone is making a killing on purple dresses and red hats.
Since I am not a joiner, I will probably never wear a red hat, but I strongly applaud their attitude. In fact, I give them a standing O. Some people laugh at them; I think they are brave and wonderful. We are just approaching that age when some of us are losing spouses, or having serious health problems, or facing the last third of our life realizing that the potential for much is gone and that we may have to settle for less, and it will have to be enough. The red hat to me says, maybe so, but I will make the most of what is left and I will do it with humor and grace.
It seems recently that I've been hearing from a lot of old friends. Our children are grown, we are too old to reclaim careers set aside to be home, and the question of who are we now is the topic of our talks. It's such a boring old question, I suppose, unless you are the one asking it.
Most of my friends I am proud to say are the kind who give. It's just that now the giving to family is not so demanding, and we have to figure out what these final years of health and ability should be given TO.
If I sound pensive, it's because I'm listening to Pablo Casals play Bach's Six Suites for Cello, which Dan got me for my birthday and it is achingly gorgeous. |
