Always
the Stranger
Reading
the first two chapters of ‘Twice a stranger’ brought many
memories.
The pain of what I wrote
about in the second chapter has disappeared and this is my final chapter
Gladstone, the first of April 1976.
Red dirt, blue skies and sun, endless sun.
We had just arrived from Sydney where we........
But no. This is going to be my story. Not about
my husband from whom I separated a few years ago, nor about my
daughters who are happily doing their own thing anyway.
My life is now my own. Selfish you may say, which
sounds a fair enough comment.
As it is however, I have for the last 68 years lived
for the future and today my future has become the present. I enjoy being alive. N
O W.
Ageing holds no fear, who am I kidding, I have been at
it since birth.
Not like the young girls in the TV ads. ‘Defy ageing’
they yell into the camera.
Poor souls! Ageing and maturing are facts of life.
Take aged port and matured
cheese and what
you get is a taste sensation. The joy of ageing is to know that one
has arrived. You don’t have to worry any more about what the fashion
gurus dictate. What you should wear, or how you should behave to be
more acceptable.
I don’t care what they say or think about me any
more. I may dress in purple and
wear a red
hat. I may skip if my arthritis lets me. I may pick the daisies and
smell the roses, if I can get down that far. I am
now the old crone who hopefully has some wisdom to disperse even if
nobody is listening.
I am glad that I am not responsible for the next
generation. Time, I feel, will take care of it. I firmly believe in
the power of nature and evolution. This now has
become
my religion. I also believe in the power of women. Perhaps if women
ruled the world, we might not have so many wars.
Also, blessed be this day, the day when I resigned
from the Catholic Church,’
the boys’
club par excellence’. I gained a freedom, I never knew would be
possible. A greater freedom than I experienced even when I left my
husband.
I have shattered the mirror held up to me, for so many
years, that said: ’This
is how we see you,
this is what you are’. But those of course were illusions, lies and
more lies. I am now the person I want to be. Today I want to dance on
tables, my legs look good, however my face does not fit the
requirements. I would like to fly, but my wings won’t sprout. And
KLM or Quantas are far too expensive for the flying I want to do.
However, I am not a sweet old lady! Far from it. There
is a rage in me, a rage I do not want to calm because there is still
so much to gain for women. When I look around me, I see what is
needed, so much needs improving.
Being ‘alive’, I want to share that energy with my
sisters.
The best part of being a stranger is however, that I
don’t care any more about what they say when I bend the rules ......
