SELF EFFACEMENT

Time is of the essence. My day happens to be dull, boring. I’m out of household chores. I’ve super shopped for the week. I’ve met Millie for lunch on Tuesday and Janet on Friday. Too many lunches out. My cholesterol level went up 10 points on my last blood test. I’ve walked my walking shoes right down to the last one or two uses before I take my new in reserve pair down from the closet shelf. T.V. has too much repetitive news (all bad), too much Obama, too many commercials. I rarely turn it on any more. Thank heavens the laundry basket is empty, even if only for the day. There are no doctor, hair appointments on my calender for this entire week. There is no need for pen and paper to write long letters any more. My emails go out in bulk, 5, 10, 100 if I so choose. Sometimes I write one that I think is an interesting letter, alter the addressee, add a few personal notes, arrange lunches, and they go out singly. 10 minutes and that is done. One well done handwritten could absorb me for an hour.

Many youthful years of working are behind me. So are the varied volunteer jobs in which I involved myself when I no longer needed a salary. I play too much double Solitaire on my computer, make only a few personal phone calls, get less. Sure, Stranger, tell me to go to the library, get a good book. But my cataracts make reading difficult yet they are not ‘ripe’ for surgery. So I squint and my wrinkles get wider, deeper. Wait, don’t be insulted. I have an idea. I am going to get a magnifying glass to look hard at myself, see me as others may have seen me, see me now. Open Sesame, I want to see the me of me.

‘OK, Zel. Look. You were not very nice to your sister. You extra broke her favorite china doll dishes. You made her do your chores. You got stubborn and wouldn’t go to the store for your mother unless it was to buy chocolate cake. You never told her you loved her. You never thanked her when she bought you new clothes or toys. You bossed your playmates, always wanted to be the leader. When you got mad, you really got mad and hit your friends, kicked them even tore a few dresses. OK, Little one, I did have a few good points. I always helped my teachers, ran errands, washed blackboards, filled inkwells. I was smart too. I raised my hand to answer most questions, jiggled it to make you see me. My homework was always done on time and my report cards brought back with my daddy’s true signature.
I give myself a ‘C’ for childhood.

As a teen I always had a crush on somebody, even a stranger. There were countless verbal battles with my girlfriends. Jealousy flourished as they had boyfriends and I didn’t. They were all prettier than I was, I thought, but I was wrong. Inside of me was a strong inferior complex. Recently I looked back at old black and white fading photos and see how beautiful my hair was, even though I hated the redness. My freckles were fading, but not my bad traits. Bossy, bossy, big mouth. I could exaggerate easily but never lied.
I get a ‘C’ here too.

Without being aware of its approach, I became an adult. I got a job, gave my parents half of my $12 a week, sometimes brought fruit or potatoes from the market for my mother and didn’t take the money. I was patriotic, saved used Crisco, gave my aluminum pans to the war effort, became a block chairman to make sure blackouts were observed. I was strong willed, independent. My parents get part of the blame for my errors. They didn’t send me to college nor try to convince me not to marry so young. I did marry and should have been, could have been a warmer wife, but a harder worker you wouldn’t find then or today. My children were cared for, showered with love and presents but my determination to teach them right from wrong, politeness, backfired and I think they didn’t like me very much.
Another ‘C’ for me

Twilight years, widowed days and nights have reached me and I am a different person. My angers, resentments, stubborness, bossiness have almost disappeared. I talk easily to strangers, give compliments, honestly and unasked for. Sharing thoughts, experiences fill my days, my heart. Compassion, understanding seems natural. It comes so easily.

If only I could have been born old and become young, I’d have been a cute, loveable, sweet child and my daddy wouldn’t have had to pay for anybody’s torn dress.