Musings

It had finally happened. I was a lonely old lady.

I really hope I didn’t smell like the old ladies I knew in my youth. The ones that forgot to take showers every day, but somehow managed to smell like mothballs, or the ones that covered themselves in powder but still didn’t smell quite right. There was one lady that smelt like melted crayons and sour milk, she didn’t seem to notice and that made me sad. No, I am determined to be an old lady that smells like something pleasant, maybe vanilla or butterscotch.

I always hated that the only nice things they made for old people were either lavender or rose. Don’t people know that there are other scents in the world! As much as I love the smell of both of them, I never appreciated my toilet smelling that way when I was young, so why would I start now?

My husband and I had lived a very happy life together. Seventy two years of marriage. We had six children, five of which lived to give us grandchildren. The sixth was taken up to heaven the day he was born, darling little angel. My husband was a wonderful man. We met and fell in love when we were seventeen. It took him eight years to work up the courage to ask me to be his wife. Eventually he got there. I knew he would. He knew I would wait. We knew each other better than you could ever imagine.

He was patient, kind and funny. He had the wickedest sense of humor and would laugh at the silliest things. Seeing him happy was the best part of my day. He really knew how to light up a room with that laugh of his. I miss it, almost as much as I miss him.

My children live too far away to be able to visit often and the eldest grandchildren are still at the age where they are too self involved to realize how much their apathy hurts. I know that they don’t mean to avoid me, but I would so like to see them more.

My cats are my only companions now. They have been for the last three years. Little rascals make my life interesting at least. Much more fun to watch them play than try and find anything worthwhile on T.V these days. You don’t even realize that you are turning into ‘the old lady with the cats’ until it’s too late. I realized that I spent more on my cats than I did on myself and when I mentioned it to the lady across the street she told me that I was known as ‘the cat lady’ to all the children nearby.

I used to knit. I made sweaters, scarves, toys, knee rugs and hats. I can’t knit anymore because my hands hurt when I hold the needles for more than a few minutes together. I still buy wool now and again when I have a few extra dollars. I love the smell and feel of the soft wools used for baby clothes. I like to imagine what I would have made from it. I plan it all out in my head on the way home from shopping. I draw up a quick sketch and type up the stitches I would use. I put it all into an airtight bag and pack it away in hopes of one day teaching a grandchild or neighborhood child how to knit and create things without needing oodles of money.

I loved to read. Now my eyesight is so bad I need one of those ridiculous magnifying lamp things to see what I’m eating. I shouldn’t lie. My eyes aren’t quite that bad yet. Thankfully I can still read my favorite novels and old love letters and mothers day cards. It gives me a headache, but it’s worth it to remember days past. I should get one of those magnifying lamp things. Ridiculous they may be, but handy when you’re old and your eyesight is not what it once was.

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Dan snuffled into his pillow beside me. Ruining my train of thought as usual, but I didn’t really mind. I loved that man to distraction.

The wind blew up the hall and threatened to slam the bedroom door. I jumped out of bed and closed it softly before it got too strong. My little cats were sleeping. Well … they were at least cat napping, sure to be chasing each other all over the house in a few hours when Dan and I were both comatose. I always marveled at how they could twist themselves in to such convoluted shapes to be comfortable. Innocent while someone was watching and mischievous otherwise. Rascals through and through, but I loved them anyway.
I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror as I passed. My long brown hair caught the light and shone with highlights of red. I was still stuck as an old lady in my mind and it shocked me a little to realize that I wasn’t. I think maybe I’m one of those people that are referred to as old souls, I always felt more comfortable with the older generation and preferred Pride and Prejudice or Anne of Green Gables to Sex and the City any time.

I settled back into bed, and with my thought process well and truly disturbed I didn’t bother picking up the laptop again. I closed the lid and snuggled further under the covers. Dan reached for me in his sleep, knowing even in his unconscious state that I needed to be held. We always slept like this. I couldn’t sleep otherwise. I always had to be in contact with him in one way or another. Sometimes we held hands. Sometimes it was enough to be touching toes. Always I need the contact of this beloved man to be able to drift off into sleep. My dreams and imagination were sometimes so realistic that I would wake up and still be trapped in my brain. I often forget that it isn’t real. I once dreamt that he had died and woke up sobbing with grief that he had left me behind. It took him forever to calm me down, and even then I couldn’t get back to sleep, so he stayed awake with me until he was so tired that he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Poor man, he puts up with so much.

I wondered as my eyelids started to droop, if my life will be anything like what I had just written. I hoped most of it would, but I also hoped that I wouldn’t be left behind when it was time for Dan to leave. It was kind of morbid to think that way, but this was how I felt. A world without Dan was not worth being in, not for me. I snuggled further into my pillow, breathing in the scent of laundry powder and cool night air. Crickets were finishing their symphony outside and I could just faintly hear the sound of cars driving up the highway. Life… what a great invention.