Grandmas

Once upon a time there were two little girls called Rosa and Cinnamon. One day, while their grandma was taking them to her house for a sleep over, she overheard the older one, Rosa, telling her littler sister in a very matter-of-fact way:

“We’re going to Grandma’s because she lives all alone and she hasn’t anyone to talk to except a cat”.

This alarmed Grandma who was unable to reply as she was busy driving her little silver car in heavy traffic.  She thought of her grand daughter’s statement which while true, made her sound like she was a sad, lonely old lady.

Grandma actually had a very full life with good friends, activities like Tango dancing, (well until her right knee needed an operation), and the odd silver-haired handsome prince who would stay over, so very rarely did she feel lonely.  It was true that she did live with a strange black and white cat known as Paco with whom she would hold whole conversations that no one else really understood.  She would say something and Paco would reply.  This sometimes went on for quite a while and she didn’t think it anything strange.  She knew people commented on this about her but this didn't worry her.

Grandma felt that overall grandmothers got bad press, or rather were frequently misrepresented. Whenever there was a grandmother in a storybook she was shown as a plump old lady with her white hair in a bun and an apron donned over her bosom and pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven or sitting in a big old fashioned chair knitting.  Spectacles were always perched on the end of her nose. The picture book Grandma was kindly and never swore whereas Grandma sometimes said four letter words when no one was around, though never in front of Rosa and Cinnamon.  It was like believing that little girls were made of “sugar and spice and all things nice” and boys were made of “frogs and snails and puppy dog’s tails”. It simply wasn’t true picture of how children were just as the picture books weren’t true about the grandmas she knew either.

For example her princess-pretty grand-daughter Rosa with her flaxen plaits most definitely was sugar, whereas Cinnamon, (the younger one), with her mussed-up golden brown hair along with a look of mischief in her dark eyes was all spice with “puppy dogs tails” - thrown in for good measure.

Grandma liked be glamorous yet had a leather biker jacket she liked to wear now and then along with dangly earings - mostly because it made her feel younger.  She had a job of sorts.  Her hair colour varied but it was never grey.  She exercised daily to keep her figure trim and used all sorts of magic potions on her face to keep the grandma-like wrinkles at bay.  She enjoyed listening to the radio especially current affairs on BBC.  When she could afford it she went to the opera or ballet in her best frock but now and then she broke out and danced to Bruce Springstein or raved to Led Zeppelin like there was no tomorrow.  Rosa and Cinnamon liked it when Grandma danced and they would join in and all rave together.

Grandma worked hard at not conforming to a stereotype that was, she believed, a relic of a former age.  Just a few years ago before she actually became a Grandma she went off to South America to live in the Andes.  Most people thought it was an exciting adventure for her, which it was but what really prompted her to go was a mid-life crisis.  With no partner, no grandchildren and her youth receding behind her, she was secretly disgruntled about being at this stage of her life with nothing to look forward to.

Or so she thought until she returned from the Land of the Incas and grand children came along and then she was disappointed at the world at large for holding out on her for so long. How wonderful grandchildren really were, especially her own Rosa and Cinnamon!

And she knew that out there other grandmas who were like her.  Grandmas who had done all sorts of things in their lifetimes like working hard in low paid jobs to support their families, writing novels, lobbying for political change, running corporations, canoeing up tributaries of the Amazon along with the grandmas who baked cookies, knitted and held long meaningful conversations with their cats.

Grandmas, it seems, come in all shapes and sizes with a variety of hair colours, yet what they all have in common is that they love their grand children very, very much.


* The name of the cat has been changed for reasons of confidentiality

The Nature of Happiness II

The catalyst that changed the bliss I had been experiencing despite my situation, was the meeting up with an old lover; he the inconstant constant in my life for almost thirty years.

I am no longer in love with him, but I thought why not? I hadn't seen him for five years when I had fled his town in a state of shock. However we had been in touch sporadically by text and email, beginning not entirely by chance some months ago. I told myself that I would be open, not to presume or leap onto my perch overlooking the moral high ground as I had done in the past. After all, I knew what he is like.

One outcome of our meeting was certain; the historic dynamic between us would restored, albeit temporarily and as a consequence of our enjoyment of each others' company, we would sleep together. This was not an issue with me. I was certain of this because being the age when women are invisible I was consciously seeking affirmation of my femininity and sexuality with someone whose body was as familiar to me as my own.

Over three days we enjoyed companionable days and nights together. We both complimented each other on how well we looked considering our ages - he 65, me just a few years younger. I recall him laughing spontaneously, over a drink at something I said. He held my hand as we tore from bar to bar in downtown finding the right crafted beer on tap to meet his exacting tastes.

Then there was the day he had to go home.  With hindsight I think there was a subtle switch in mood for us both. He was in having to catch a flight home mode which always underpins the hours prior to leaving no matter how much time you have. I was tired because I'd lain awake in that wide bed unsettled by the fact that there was no doubt someone else in his life eating away at me. I knew he lived alone so relax, I told myself. I acknowledged he lacked emotional depth and I have known that for a long time. Yet I have always loved his company over and above that of anyone else. My expectations of him all those years ago were projections I imposed on him born out of loneliness and need. He hadn't changed, but feeling this kind of weary bleakness, had I? Did I still unconsciously expect something more from him?

Warily, I'd put my hand up when he first proposed meeting. Eyes wide open yet meeting with him again I realised with an uncanny sense of deja vu that in some ways my situation was not dissimilar from the one I was in when I knew him all those years ago. It was the difference in our material situations that unsettled me the most, now as it did then. A sense of being powerless accompanied the feeling, now as it did then. I was no longer the sole parent of young children, but here I was unemployed with nothing set by but still presenting the same confident, well dressed face to the world.

So this is what has brought me to my present state where worry and reality have set in for the winter. A familiar gnawing has settled uncomfortably in my belly as I wonder how I am going to survive financially, going forward and alone.

Isabel

The Nature of Happiness

Today I feel blissfully happy. This sun is shining, there is no wind and having just scrambled up the side of my local volcanic cone and back down again after viewing the stunning view from the top, I still have oodles of energy to spare. I've sanded down my front steps and primed them ready for painting and tugged a few weeds from my garden.

The reality is I am unemployed and don't have as much financial security that I might have expected at this stage of my life. I do need to earn a living but having had periods of unemployment post redundancies where the job search hung over my life like the sword of Damocles, I don't want to repeat this pattern. I am blissfully going with the flow as life presents itself, unsure what my next step will be.

So right now there is no plan beyond getting as much out of each day as I can. I am happy, today, here, now. I know happiness isn't a static state and it can evaporate in an instant. I know that because I have known great unhappiness, depression and anxiety. 

What do you think? Am I naive, burying my head in the sand and live to rue the day I was so careless about my future, or am I on track to an exciting and unknown destination life has in store for me?

Isabel

Who Wants to Live Forever?

How often do we hear the saying “Life isn't a dress rehearsal, it's the here and now”? 
As I sail into my third age I have been confronted with the realisation that life is finite.  How many more years are ahead of me, fifteen like my late mother, twenty five at the most?  While this sounds pessimistic I tell myself that I being realistic. Of course in tandem with the sensible part of me acknowledging this I am also in total denial. While writing this, I was ambushed by lyrics of the Freddie Mercury song popping into my mind "Who wants to live forever when love must die? Who waits forever anyway?"

Good point.  The clock is ticking, and without realising it our whole lives up until this point have been the dress rehearsal for when we grew up. Well in case you didn't notice we are the grown ups so we'd better settle for making the most of the here and now.

Let's face it; there are insidious and niggling physical reminders that we may not be as young as feel on the inside.  But the truth is most of us baby boomers feel much the same as when we were 20, 35 or even 45, only happier, with less angst and if we are lucky, with little or no mortgage.  We still have hope, though that is rather nebulous as to what we are hoping for but it probably includes expectations of good health for our remaining years with the same for our life partner.  Our hopes are likely to include being in a comfortable situation financially.   And finally, if single, we are most definitely not ready to give up on finding love, as the number of baby boomers on online dating sites attest.