Women of a Certain Age

Certain about what?

We females of the elder tribe are often referred to as”women of a certain age”.  What does this even mean?  What are we supposed to be certain about?  Did I miss something somewhere?

I find that I’m not certain about a lot of things these days. I’m not certain about where my body and face will end up as they morph into what seems to be a combination of my mother’s and father’s aging faces and bodies.

I’m not certain how far south my breasts will travel.  I’m not certain if my lips will disappear altogether as they roll back into my mouth, or how much more decorated my face and body will become as they get increasingly adorned with lines, wrinkles, and spots.

I’m not certain about which hikes I can take until I research the location of restrooms along the way.  (Is this what they mean by “golden years”?)

It’s so important to keep our sense of humor, yes?

I’m not certain about whether I’ve fulfilled my purpose thus far in my life or even whether I know what that purpose might be.

I’m uncertain about where I’ll end up living as I continue aging, which of my friends will be on this path with me, who may leave too soon, whether my mind will stay with me. So many questions, so much that we cannot know.

And yet, I realize that I have had lessons and experiences along the way that do help me become more certain about at least a few things.

I’m learning to let go of things that I cannot control. That list gets longer every day.

I’m learning about the power of kindness, the exquisiteness of silence in a forest, the deepening connection that I feel with the earth and its creatures, the comfort of touching a tree and feeling that touch to my core, the loveliness of random connections, the gift of a smile that can change the course of my day, the slowing down that elderhood can bring, the slowing that helps me look around me and see more deeply, the relief of forgiveness and letting go, the bittersweetness of loss and grieving that is a testament to the depth of love felt.

I am learning that I still feel hope, even in the darkest times, when I look into the faces of my neighbor’s babies.  And I’m hopeful when I see examples of human kindness every day.

My memory may not be as sharp these days, my body may not have its youthful vigor, but my heart expands and my spirit grows ever deeper.

I’m grateful these days for each morning that I wake up, for each breath, for my life.

And about all of that I’m very certain!