About six months ago a series of clicks started moving through the system of tumblers that lock my brain. I couldn't hear them but I felt the tiniest shift and ease as pins lined up, tension built, and I experienced one slight release after another. I am letting go.
I've let go before. I've walked away, I've moved on. This feels different. When I compare my previous life transitions to now it seems as if those times were like walking through a doorway into another room (leaving the room behind)and this is more like opening the windows to see what is actually in the room (to find I may want to spend more time in it).
When I turned 50 it bothered me to state my age. Now I throw it out like a challenge. I'm 51 and my skin will always look 20 years younger. I started growing my hair longer before my birthday. I'd worn it extremely short for years. I've embraced a couple looks that I've always loved on other people and hadn't tried myself. Why? I have no idea. I find myself wearing colorful silk scarves more days than not. I wear a denim jacket with dresses and I have a closet full of shoes that make me happy.
I was asked if I have plans for Easter. Would I like to have dinner with a family because I'm all alone? I declined, saying I have theater tickets. The inviter was surprised and said she was sorry I had to go by myself. Reader, I hope you're not sorry for me. I have 3rd row seats. I think it will be wonderful.
Now to one of the clicks I was talking about. It may take a minute to get there. I went dancing with a female friend of mine last night. We were outside - on the patio - taking in the night breeze and catching up on our lives. A most attractive, friendly, single man struck up a conversation and bought us a drink. This most attractive, friendly, single man eventually asked me to dance and at one point told me I was "splendid". Isn't that a wonderful word? Given that his native language is French, I take that as a sincere compliment and I felt bad that because the band was so loud he had to say it 4 times before I heard it. (Kind of.)
Here's the click. He was good-looking, single, seemingly-sincere, interesting and...more than 10 years younger than me. I'm aware of how my room-leaving, door-slamming self works.
Easing open the windows shows me that it's fun to dance. It's wonderful to be told I'm splendid. One day I may meet a man in my general age-range. Maybe. In the meantime. Click. Click. Click. Yes, he has my number.
I've let go before. I've walked away, I've moved on. This feels different. When I compare my previous life transitions to now it seems as if those times were like walking through a doorway into another room (leaving the room behind)and this is more like opening the windows to see what is actually in the room (to find I may want to spend more time in it).
When I turned 50 it bothered me to state my age. Now I throw it out like a challenge. I'm 51 and my skin will always look 20 years younger. I started growing my hair longer before my birthday. I'd worn it extremely short for years. I've embraced a couple looks that I've always loved on other people and hadn't tried myself. Why? I have no idea. I find myself wearing colorful silk scarves more days than not. I wear a denim jacket with dresses and I have a closet full of shoes that make me happy.
I was asked if I have plans for Easter. Would I like to have dinner with a family because I'm all alone? I declined, saying I have theater tickets. The inviter was surprised and said she was sorry I had to go by myself. Reader, I hope you're not sorry for me. I have 3rd row seats. I think it will be wonderful.
Now to one of the clicks I was talking about. It may take a minute to get there. I went dancing with a female friend of mine last night. We were outside - on the patio - taking in the night breeze and catching up on our lives. A most attractive, friendly, single man struck up a conversation and bought us a drink. This most attractive, friendly, single man eventually asked me to dance and at one point told me I was "splendid". Isn't that a wonderful word? Given that his native language is French, I take that as a sincere compliment and I felt bad that because the band was so loud he had to say it 4 times before I heard it. (Kind of.)
Here's the click. He was good-looking, single, seemingly-sincere, interesting and...more than 10 years younger than me. I'm aware of how my room-leaving, door-slamming self works.
Easing open the windows shows me that it's fun to dance. It's wonderful to be told I'm splendid. One day I may meet a man in my general age-range. Maybe. In the meantime. Click. Click. Click. Yes, he has my number.
©Michelle Scofield, April 22, 2011 All Rights Reserved
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