“Youth is a garland of roses; old age is a crown of willows”
(The Talmud: Sabbath 152a)
I think I went through the whole gamut of emotions as I turned the pages. It is so intense, I found myself laughing and weeping, feeling passionate and compassionate, wishing I could meet everyone of these women who have endured so much. I would like to cradle their gnarled, wrinkled hands and just say: “I hear you. I understand.”
I learned something from every contribution to the book. The title poem came from raw life, beyond language; a rebellion of sorts against convention, a sympathy for life’s bag ladies and society’s drop-outs. We all harbor anxiety about becoming dependent, fearful of handicaps like Alzheimer’s or the loss of dignity that comes with incontinence or having to use a walker. The stories gave me courage.
A poet, William Carlos Williams, once described old age as “a flight of small cheeping birds.” It is a beautiful, apt description. The years will take much from us that we cherish about ourselves, and this is inevitable. Yet maturity means mellowness. The rat race is behind you and you are established in what you are doing. Some of the early dreams may have faded along the way but reality can be even more satisfying.
Life gets easier as you become more mature. The wisdom attributed to age is just an accumulation of all your experiences plus the lessons you learned from them. A disappointment is just that, and not something that shatters you emotionally. You take it philosophically as part of life, knowing there will be other compensations. Perhaps you no longer soar in ecstasy, but neither do you sink in despair. Appreciation doesn’t wane: there is often increased awareness and sensitivity because there is more time to look at the dewdrop in the heart of the rose; to listen to a symphony; to taste a wine that has aged; to smell the perfume of jasmine on the night air; to touch old books bound in leather.
We learn to relish life’s small pleasures; a cup of tea, a piece of chocolate, a bud that bursts into flower in your garden. And remember the proverb: “A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.”