The checker at the store, as she scanned the bottle of wine in my cart, looked up to me and asked me if I was over 21. "Oh yeah," I said, "like, 26 years past 21." Then she looked at Girlfriend and said something that sounded like "beautiful," and then the tears started and all I could stammer was: "She is what makes things alright."
I really love my mother's memory but one thing that she cursed me with is this "youth" script I suffer from. We talk of people who have "perfect" scripts or "victim" scripts, but I'm stuck with the "youth" one. She relied on her youthful looks and she was beautiful in so many ways, but her reliance on the whole youth thing poisoned me.
And in the end, it probably wasn't her fault at all. I remember her answering the door one time, and the postman asked if her mother was home. She must have been 30. And, years later, she had to face the worst that was to be for her, in her mind: the loss of her youth. When she had her cancer, they cut her face in half to take out the tumor. That scar, that scar. It was horrific. Would I think that that same scar would be as horrific on someone who didn't have her looks? I don't know the answer to that.
See? It was my mother's youthful looks, or maybe even the "myth" of it, that we held onto that made it so difficult to watch it all happen to her.
And what I wonder is, why have I tried for all these years to protect her? I think my brother does that too. She had her faults and one big one was this "youth" script that I talk about. The slicing in half of her face has become almost a symbol to me: Your youth or your beauty on the outside, if you take it too much for granted, will be your downfall.
If the Grimm brothers were still alive, I would ask them to write a really, really good tale about this one and try to learn from it.
Ugh. I hate growing older. And if there was a way for me to figure out how to deal with it gracefully, I would. But for now, I will wallow.
Maybe it's the whole book thing. I think that putting so many months (over a year's worth of months) into knitting 30 sweaters, designing them and now facing the idea of re-living each and every one for the editing process and that four-day shoot that's coming up in a day or so, might be contributing to my unease.
So, if you're the type of blog reader who doesn't enjoy these "postulations," then, as it were, delete delete delete.
Thanks for listening.
BTW: I have a number of books to give away. I have begun the process of contacting each person on the randomly chosen list. The first person will have first choice, and so on. If you happen to be the last person on the list facing the last book, like, uhmmm, Knitting for Dummies, and don't want it, I'll just donate it to the local library. Not that Knitting for Dummies is on the list. It just happens to be one of the books that I personally probably most likely, and all that, would not have in the stack. No offense to the author of that book, but you-know. Peace.Some are like water, some are like the heat
Some are a melody and some are the beat
Sooner or later they all will be gone
Why don't they stay young
It's so hard to get old without a cause
I don't want to perish like a fading horse
Youth is like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever
So many adventures couldn't happen today
So many songs we forgot to play
So many dreams are swinging out of the blue
We let them come true