I never expected to be an elder. In fact, if you’d asked anyone, they’d probably have nominated me least likely to become an elder!
But here I am, cruising (bumpily!) into elder-hood. Kicking & screaming? Yep! Because I’m not ready!
The thing about being an elder is: you look to your own elder rôle models. And mine were TOTALLY, intimidatingly, excellent.
Take my perfect mother-in-law… Memorable teacher. Funny like the best of funny. Never seemed to lose her temper. Gave me the best of thoughtful support. How the heck can I live up to that w/ my own daughter-in-law?? I’m not even a poor second-best! Sheesh…
Or my professional mentors ~ these men & women still teach me things! Even after being ‘one of them’ (professionally, academically) for more than 20 years! Another big sigh.
And then there the things I learn from my children, from my ostensibly co-equal friends (all of whom know so many things I don’t), from colleagues & family. Who manage to have patience with my ignorance, wisdom when I need it, and a solid sense of humour.
How intimidating is all that!
Today I lost my patience (luckily no one knows but a sister & my best beloved). I don’t want to be a grownup, especially not a perfect elder! I want to scream, have a fit, hide my head under the covers and go to sleep until the world is ‘back to normal.’ I want a re-do. I want, like a cat sticking her head outside a door into too-cold/too-wet weather, another door into today.
I don’t want to worry about ‘expendable’ lives ~ who match my aging, often fragile, Vonnegut-ian karass all too closely.
I’m going to go fix a pot of tea. Liquid reboot! Here’s hoping it works!