To MFASRF: Just aging psychologically, by the way.
    Nothing serious. I can't recall ever taking a death badly, nor consciously shying away from the possibility of someone's death. Not even my father's, nor my mother's. Nor, for that matter, my own (although I am somewhat more removed from my own, now, than I was at this time last year; my overwhelming memory of this time last year is a Thomas Kinkade puzzle of a Paris street scene in the early 20th century that my mother was puzzling over). I can remember being shocked by someone's death, or relieved by it. But, you know, I'd probably snivel over The Girls' deaths. My mother, as it turns out, becomes less sentimental with age.
    I asked her, the other night, if she remembers what she thought it would be like to be in her 80's when she was in her 50's, or so.
    "Oh, goodness girl, I can't remember that! I don't think I wondered about it."
    I don't think she did.
    She still thinks of herself as beautiful and vain. One of my book club friends picked up on this. At one time I had described my mother to her as "ancient", because she is, and someone else called her that. But, when this woman met my mother she corrected me and said, "She's a proud, beautiful, modest old woman." And, she is.
    I tend to see my mother only as ancient, although I have to admit, she still has nice legs. She has never liked her legs because they don't look like her mother's. Her mother had very smooth legs, like poles. No apparent muscular development. I never liked her mother's legs. But, I like my mother's. The fun thing is that she never remembers this anymore, so every time I put lotion on her I remark about her legs and she takes it like a school girl and goes through the thing about her mother's legs again. I have to admit that sometimes her repetition drives me up a wall, but this kind of repetition never does. I invite it. Now I know how it was my mother was able to sit for hours and listen to her father tell the same stories over and over. At some point, and I don't yet know what defines this point, hearing these stories has become a pleasure.
- posted by gail rae @ 11:35  0 comments   email...this post