It Made my Day

It Made my Day

Walking down the street toward the hardware store I caught sight of an anomaly across the street. I literally stopped in my tracks. Walking on the other side of the street was what seemed to be a sixties flower child.

Yes, it was close to Halloween, but this did not look like a girl in an outfit, this looked like a true flower child, right out of the life I lived as a woman in her twenties, in the United States, in the sixties. That could be me. The outfit even looked familiar, let alone the tangles of long curly reddish, blond hair hanging down her back. That woman was me, only fifty-five years ago.

I was stunned. Not only by the sight of her, but at my thoughts in comparison, me now, me then. I am currently pushing eighty. Life had changed so much since I was that flower child. I was walking to the hardware store right then, because I was getting nervous about driving.

I have a lovely car, but I don’t know what one third of the buttons and switches even do. I had to pull into a parking lot, the first time it rained, to look up which knob turned on my wipers! Life and machines were so much simpler then. Or were they? Maybe my thinking was simpler, calmer, and accepted change more gracefully?

I have no idea when my end will come, but suddenly I felt extremely good, and healthy, and optimistic. As I watched my doppelganger from the sixties walk away, I swear I had to wave, and honestly, I think I felt her send back a vibe. ‘Be yourself,’ she seemed to call, ‘be the best you can, no matter who gawks at you. You’re already perfect.’

It made my day.