“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.” ~Jane Howard
I’m a Blessed Old Broad
My women’s luncheon Wednesday opened my eyes to how blessed I am. There were nine of us, but because of the table configuration, I spent the time primarily talking with three other women.
They were in the neighborhood of what I call my old broad age, a term I use affectionately and which is an age I’m happy to be enjoying. They, however, were concerned about what this age portends.
I didn’t understand at first, and when Lady A said she had moved from her third floor home because it was too hard carrying groceries and other items up three flights of stairs. I, laughingly said, I used my three local grandsons for the heavy stuff.
But then Lady B mentioned that she had to go into a nursing home, which had been quite traumatizing for her, while recovering from a hip transplant. And Lady C said that would probably be her fate, too, if she became disabled.
All three women, I suddenly realized, were single with no children or other family members still living. It was an unhappy fact the trio had long been aware of, however.
It made me realize how fortunate I had been when I broke my ankle earlier this year. My youngest daughter was there for me, doing my shopping and laundry and taking me to the doctor until I could once again drive and get around on my own.
I have other children and grandchildren as well, who have made it clear that they will be there for me if I ever need them. I’m an independent cuss and hope I will always be so, but I have to admit that knowing they want to be there for me is comforting.
As ladies A, B and C, who had not known each other before the luncheon, realized what they shared, I became the outsider of the group. This was a fact that was actually noted by one of the ladies as the three women began sharing contact information with each other as part of a newly formed support group.
I was extremely happy that they had found each other, and for the first time in my life glad I didn’t fit in. It didn’t feel at all like what Anne Lamott had described in “Bird by Bird” as that kid standing alone by the fence, which had been me growing up.
Bean’s Pat: Thar she blows http://tinyurl.com/a9aeoaz This blog has made me want to go back and reread “Moby Dick.