Asking the right questions

I think we ought to live like we will never be in an old age home. I already spend most of my time in a fourteen by fourteen room, so I feel well-practiced for the possibility that I might eventually live in just a single room. (Though I am not going to plan on it.)

On the Zoom calls I do with rug hookers I see so much vitality, energy, and moxie in women older than me. And that is what I am planning for. I am planning for joie de vivre. I don't see myself as wearing purple. I still plan to wear a lot of tan, grey, black, and when I am up to it a splash of red.

I am planning on cultivating lots of friendships in the next ten to twenty years, new ones and old ones. People I call just to say hello. Last month I called a woman I have known for forty years and invited her out to lunch. She was a volunteer when I worked at the Transition House in Amherst before I ever knew I was a rug hooker. She was happy to meet up. We went to The Portlander, a Caribbean restaurant around the corner. It is painted all in green, yellow, and black, and the owner is warm and kind and she made us some delicious salads. While we were there my friend told me about car camping. There is a whole group of older women who take their cars and hit the road and go camping. Yes, in their cars. They sleep in their cars. Everyone drives alone and they meet up at certain locations along the way. Some have little tents that attach to their cars. Others even have a tiny special toilet they carry with them. I was amazed. She also told me she lifts weights three times a week. She is seventy going on 59. And she is vital and interesting. I walked her back to her work (oh yes she does that still) and she thanked me for thinking of her. Of course I thought of her. 

People, I have discovered, love to be thought of. They are waiting to be called for a walk, or for lunch, or a little visit. "We have two hands," Audrey Hepburn said, "one for helping ourselves and another for helping others." Whenever I feel like a drag, or a teeny bit sad, I ask myself what my other hand is doing? It's a good question. "Who needs me?" can be as good a question as "What do I need?" when you are in a funk. And funks are real, and they are ok, and they pass as quickly as they come most of the time. Especially if you ask yourself the right question.

So I am planning for good things, and trusting in love that they will come. Not everything will be perfect. I can guarantee you I won't always be patient, and that I'll sometimes catch my crabby face in the mirror as I walk by. And when I do, I plan to stick my tongue out and put my thumbs in my ears and wiggle them back at her.