23!?

Today, after church, once my Mom and I finished the egg scramble we made for lunch, I heard our elderly neighbor's voice through our screen door as she came through the gate my dad had built into our fence just for her.  She had come to get a few things from my mom and relay her latest shopping list needs.  I paused from my spot folding laundry to listen and watch as my mom told Marjorie to come in and sit at the kitchen table so she could get her bearings and they could visit.

While Marjorie slowly maneuvered the steps to the kitchen, Mom had leaned over and whispered to me that I should give her that last cupcake I'd brought home from Icing on the Cupcake, cause she was so lonely.  (and she loves rich food. When I'm that age, I'm eating whatever the heck I want too).  The 5 year old in me made huge, pathetic pouty eyes at my mom, silently alluding to the long history of treats and special foods that have mysteriously gone missing from our kitchen due to Mom's trips to Marjorie's.  I can't count how many times the phrase "DID MOM TAKE THE _______ TO MARJORIE?!?!?!"has been exclaimed from inside the pantry or the fridge.

Marjorie is a widow and for as long as we've lived here, she has lived alone next door.  We get lemons and oranges from her back yard, take her old newspapers when we have puppies, and my mom goes over there almost every day to have tea, bring groceries/medications/cleaning supplies, or to have my Dad or brother program the VCR or fix her sprinklers. When I lived at home she asked me to leave the windows open when I practiced piano. She would bring me Jane Austen books and newspaper clippings of Broadway shows coming to the area.

"I've got that written down, I knew you'd be out of english muffins." Mom was making a Costco trip today and was writing on Marjorie's section of her list. They talked about tea and sheets and Mom's daycare. Marjorie's unexpected nap this morning that threw her off and made her head foggy. Laughed about "kitty's" silly behavior yesterday.  When Mom had to leave, she asked me to walk Marjorie back and carry her tea, sheets, and the cupcake I had given her. (she was satisfyingly excited about it).  We strolled next door during what happened to be a sunny patch of the day, and her daughter was just pulling out of the driveway after also stopping by to take inventory and pick up necessities for her.  While we walked through her house and found places to put the sheets and tea, I looked around, absorbing what it would be like to have reached that point in life and spend every day alone, cleaning the house for no one but myself, cooking meals for just myself, and not caring if I slept the morning away today vs. tomorrow or the next day.  Where my biggest worry was the carpet cleaner that was coming by next Thursday and the big excitement of the day was Rose's 1 hour visit.  It's not a perspective that is presented often when I am immersed in a fast-paced college-age world that never sleeps and is swirling with where you're gonna go, what you're gonna accomplish, how much money you're gonna make doing it and who you're gonna marry, and then what you're gonna do tomorrow when that's finished.

I am always looking forward.  Unless I'm with someone in the car and enjoying their company, I'm an impatient driver. A fast walker by habit. (formed by always running late. ahem...) When I reached our front porch and it was still sunny, I sat down by a huge bush of flowers so I had something to watch while I sorted my thoughts and took advantage of the moment I had to sit and process, since I haven't even had time to journal.  The last thing Marjorie said when we said goodbye at her door was "Gosh, I have all these people taking care of me!"

At one end of the street I could look down and see the park where I kicked up every dandelion yesterday, and at the other end were kids selling fruit at the busy corner.  That loud, obnoxious bird in a yard down the street was screeching. I kept hearing, "Fresh fruit!! Fresh fr-" "AAAAACCKKK!" I don't know why you'd spend so much money to hear such a soul-shattering sound all day, folks, but I can probably tell you why that species is becoming endangered.

I thought of how I have no idea where I'll be at that age.  How suddenly the thought of being alone at that age terrified me. This might influence how I raise my family... "Measure your goodness to your kids by how good you want your nursing home to be," I basically told myself in more jumbled and thoughtful ways.
Marjorie is 87! I am so 23. So much is "coming" or "about to happen" that I'm always pushing ahead.  This afternoon was sobering, but beautiful and I appreciated being given the chance to reset my perspective. I love my school but I need to be around different age groups more often! :) Reality is not all about doing whatever I want and getting there in a cool car.

Cool. Welp, that's all!