Little old ladies have always liked me.
There is a group of little old ladies that ride the bus on Saturdays. They probably ride the bus on other days too but I have noticed a particular group of them on Saturdays.
I have always admired these little old ladies. They are spunky, full of life and don't take any crap from anyone. These women have probably seen it all in their lives. War, peace, The Depression, the boom in the 1950's, the advancing of technology and the demise of the traditional family.
I look at their wrinkled faces and white hair and see in their sparkling eyes wisdom. These gals (my daughter calls them broads, a real compliment coming from her) live active, full lives. They have friends and meet at the Mall for lunch. They keep track of each other and take care of each other when one is in need. I look at them and hope I can live like that someday. They live with joy and freedom, surrounded by friends.
Today for some reason, they reached out to me. By this I mean they included me in their conversation. I was the first one to the stop and one of the ladies walked up and said hello. She then said "Wouldn't it be nice if they could put a bench here?" It was the first time any of these women have spoken to me other than to say hello.
We proceeded to have a long conversation about the neighborhood. She'd lived in this neighborhood her whole life. She told me about the changes she'd seen in that time.
When the bus came, we got on and she met her friend. She said to me "would you like to sit here with us?" I gladly took the offered seat and we chatted until we got to the Mall. When they got off the bus they told me to take care and to have a good day.
These women inspire me to remember that while my youth is passing, some would say it has passed, there is more to look forward to. Yes, that includes wrinkles, gray hair (been there done that), achy bones and more visits to the doctor. But it also includes friends. wisdom and the freedom to wear purple...
WARNING by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.