As I get older, the road back to my twenties, grows longer.
A bottle or two of Boone’s Farm Apple Wine or maybe some TJ Swan Easy Nights.\Hanging out with good friends. The Moody Blues playing on the stereo. We were young with dreams that knew no boundaries. We were young, idealistic and so sure the world was going to change.
There would be no more war after Vietnam. After all, aren’t we supposed to learn from our mistakes? Women would definitely earn as much as men. After all, aren’t all humans created equal? We were never going to get stretch marks or wrinkles or need reading glasses. After all, weren’t we always going to take care of ourselves? And we were never, definitely never, going to turn into our parents.
So, I ask you? – Who is that women staring at me from the mirror? The one who works in order to pay the mortgage, who sends e-mails to the troops and who smears anti-aging cream all over face each night hoping to wake up a few years younger each day. In fact, she’s hoping to be in her back in her forties by the end of the year.
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Because I swear, it’s not me. She acts, she thinks and she looks just like my mom.
Yes, just as we thought, the world did change, but not exactly how I imagined it would. There are still wars. Everything is not always equal. And some years ago, my idealism was squeezed into a corner, a place I promised myself I’d come to later after the kids were fed, the bills paid and some sort of saving plan was set in motion. Responsibility knocked on the door with a one-way ticket to my future, and I climbed on board.
These days, if I drank a glass of Easy Nights, it would definitely not be followed by a Mellow Day, that’s for sure. But rather with a pounding headache. Today, I’m a more sophisticated drinker, preferring a Ketel One martini or a glass of Pinto Grigio.
But some things have not changed. In some ways I’m still exactly the same as that twenty-something girl. I still love hanging out with friends. Listening to The Moody Blues (now considered an Oldie) on my iPhone. And I still dream. Because to stop dreaming, is to stop living.
So most days when I look at that women in the mirror, I have to admit – she may not be who I was expecting, but I have come to love her.
I remember a friend’s teenage daughter telling her older female relatives that her boobs were never going to sag. There was much laughter!
LOL!!
So true, Janie. Being optimistic and thinking about the future is what keeps us youthful and moving forward, even during the worst of times.
Especially during the worst of times.
I see it in the mirror (my hair, my neck)…and also in my hands. When did my hands become my mother’s?
I guess it happens slowly, then all at once!
Listening to the oldies:) bring back the best of memories for me. Love those Moody Blues and I love that my kids and grandkids love them too.
I love it when all generations like the same music.
I totally hear you. Every time I see my reflection in a store window, I’m taken aback and have to remember that’s me! But I, too, am still listening to the Moody Blues and still dreaming!
The mirror can be a cruel messenger and that’s why so many people KILL the messenger.
I will never forget the first time I caught a glimpse of my mom in the mirror as I walked by…. oh that gasp and the gratitude. Awesome piece!
The road gets longer every day, you are right!
You had me at “Moody Blues.” It doesn’t matter how old I get, there is nothing better than cruising down the freeway on a warm Summer evening, windows rolled down, wind blowing my hair, and “I Know You’re Out There, Somewhere,” cranked up.
Great article, Janie. I love your closing, “So most days when I look at that women in the mirror, I have to admit – she may not be who I was expecting, but I have come to love her.”
Sometimes I regret that I did not have the wisdom I have today when I was twenty, but then, if I had, I probably wouldn’t have had the experiences that earned me my wisdom!
I’m not who I was expecting, either, but looking back over my life, and all the experiences that led me to be who I am, I would not change a thing.
Great post, Janie. So many truisms.
Yep, I look like my Mom. However, I choose to believe anyway, I’ve changed up some of her negative, fear-based beliefs – even if I still have some of her mannerisms like the way she holds her hands or cocks her head.
When I was young I had an almost flawless peaches and cream complexion. Imagine my surprise one day when I was driving home and caught a glance of myself in the rearview mirror. I noticed a tiny brown spot on my left cheek. I thought I got dirt on my face or tea or something and tried to no avail to wipe it off. Went home, looked in the mirror and realized – horrors! I had a sun spot.
In the decade and a half plus I’ve gotten many more sun spots on my face and hands, though I try to use the latest spot-correcting moisturizer and cover it up with makeup. But I’m not surprised by them any more. I’m still a beautiful, lovable woman even without a flawless peaches and cream complexion.
I never had peaches and cream complexion. I envy you.
Mirrors!! I picked up a photo of my grandfather the other day; it confirmed that my full cheeks and neck came from a wonderful source. He looked good as he aged; me, too!
Always love that gal on the inside. Regardless of the cover, the inside is pure gold! Thanks for the reminder.
When I was a teen, my mother used to look in the mirror and say, “I was expecting a much younger woman.” So on the occasion the same thing runs through my head, I laugh and remind myself it’s genetic!
I think that’s the most startling part about aging so far for me: that reflection isn’t who I expect to see when I look in the mirror. Aging with grace means making peace with the reflection for sure.
So true. Inside, we stay so young, don’t we?
Great article and yes, I turned into my mother too (with a few differences). Nice visiting you and I will be back!
Teresa
Nice to see you here!
Love the optimism and humor in this post! I saw Boone’s Farm Wine and I remember that hangover, but it’s true in that each generation faces the same questions and honestly, I would rather be middle aged and reaching for my dreams than in my 20s doing it. It seemed so much harder then.
Great post, Janie! I agree, it’s hard sometimes to hang onto the dreams we had when we were younger. But at our core, I think we’re the same people…just with more experience. And wrinkles. 🙂
Janie knowing you thru all these decades you are one of the most optimistic people
that I know. I’m grateful that I have my health that is really the most important thing unfortunately we don’t realize that until we lose it.
Wouldn’t you love to have a glass of Boone’s Farm Apple? I would. I bet it would transport me right back in time. Or course, I’d probably want to spit it right out, but at what price youthful memories? haha. And just the other day, I was considering getting a tattoo on my hands to connect all the age spots. Like a geriatric constellation. 🙂
My mom looks back at me in the mirror. Good thing I liked her! 🙂
But it’s still strange, isn’t it?
I like my mom, too!
Looking like my mother–her staring back at me in the mirror –now that was a surprise!
I look a lot like my mom, too. It’s actually sort of nice.
I wonder whatever happened to the girls we used to be. Wouldn’t be nice if we could go back and introduce ourselves? Would they be proud or turn around and run? I guess we’ll never know.
Not only do I see my mother in the mirror but am proud that I do! Funny wasn’t it just yesterday I thought I would never be like her.
I do like that person I see in the mirror. She is pretty special.
So agree … with ALL of it. Thinking young IS being young. But still, we become our mothers. What the hell, don’t fight it … embrace it. After all, she did a damn good job raising you!