I needed to speak with Dr. Smith. It wasn't urgent, but it was information he needed to know. He was perched between the wall and the wow. He was talking with Sara. His conversation was animated, punctuated with smiles and laughs. I doubt it was work related. I knew that when I finally would speak with him, he certainly wouldn't be perched. We wouldn't laugh. I would get a polite smile as he impatiently paused to receive my information. I am 56 years old. My breasts are no longer perky. I wear reading glasses, in order to see the computer print. I have gray hairs, and I lost my waist to menopause. I remember when I was a new nurse, and the men folk lingered when they talked with me. In my naivete I thought they listened to me because I was clever. But no, I was 30 and desirable. I don't want to be 30 again. I do want to be appreciated for what I have become. I have aged, like a fine wine. I am fun, I am finally clever. I know where I was and what I was doing when Elvis died and when John Lennon died. I can sing along with the Eagles, and Tom Petty and and Elton. I am more than my looks. I am a deep well still on the top, but churning with life below the surface.
falloaks falloaks
56-60, F
Aug 26, 2014