I see you. You’re smiling at my little dude remembering that season of life. You help me calm him when he’s spiraling in the grocery line. You’ve even bought me a drink on a flight where he lost his ever loving mind.
You’re a woman, full of wisdom and life. So easily you could chuckle at the things I get so wound up about. You probably wish you could tell yourself at my age “You’re enough”, and to not take things so seriously.
You may think or feel that the younger ones look right past you, but I don’t. I appreciate your beauty, your grace, and your contagious self appreciation.
I’m envious of all you know and all you’ve seen, and I yearn for an ounce of your confidence. You’d probably tell me that many things you’ve seen included grief, anger, and sadness. You’d probably tell me to live for today because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. You know this first hand because you’ve experienced loss – parents, a spouse, a sibling, a friend.
I want to give you an enthusiastic high five when I see you throw all caution to the wind and strip down to your birthday suit in the locker room. You’re unapologetic attitude gives me strength. Honest to god, you breathe fire into my soul.
And I want to apologize. To my grandmothers for the times I was a brat and didn’t appreciate everything you had to offer. To my mom, for taking that brat thing to a whole other level. To the women I once saw and dreaded the passing years that would leave my body less toned. I see you now, and I look forward to those days, willing.
To you, women over sixty, thank you for all you’ve done for us. You’ve raised us, skipped hot meals for years, dealt with your own issues, and fought a world that quite frankly hasn’t supported or respected you.
I see you. We all see you. We wouldn’t be who we are without you.