Gee, just what we want, another cloudy, damp day. It is 61°, but I feel chilly. It is definitely inside sweatshirt weather, and I think I might need socks. The dogs are napping on the couch, Henry to my left and Nala behind me. She is keeping my backside warm. I’m going to get another cup of coffee.

When I was a kid, I thought my parents were sort of old, being parents and all. Actually, they were just about the youngest of all my friends’ parents. It was my grandparents who defined for me what old was. They set the standard. They looked old, walked old and dressed old. One grandmother even sounded old. I never thought about how it felt to be old. I was a kid. I just didn’t think about stuff like growing old, but now I know. What I leaned through time and find amazing is your inside belies your outside. When I look in the mirror, I see an old lady. I don’t need platitudes here about how I don’t look my age. My face is wrinkled. Those are not laugh lines. They have been etched by time. Through, my eyes, though, my view has not changed. It doesn’t age. It still gives me the same joy it did when I was young. I see bright color and dazzling light. I see the changes in seasons. I sit in the living room just to look at my Christmas tree all lit. What I see is what I have always seen. For that I am thankful.

I have never been one for dressing up, for fancy or frilly clothes. Besides, I have seldom gone anywhere where there is even an unspoken dress code. When I was a kid, I wore dungarees in winter and blouses all year long. I wore skirts and blouses to church. When I was a bit older, my dungarees gave way to pants. That was dressy to me. In Ghana I had to wear a dress every day. All women did. What made it easier was I had dresses made from colorful, beautiful Ghanaian cloth. Those I exclusively wore after my first 6 months or so. I loved shopping in the cloth market and the cloth stalls. In Lomé, Togo, I shopped at the Grand Marche for cloth. I remember I had to climb to the top floor, but the climb was worth it as the cloth was so different from Ghana’s. That was the only time in my life when I cared beyond what my clothes looked like. I chose so carefully the cloth they were made from.

I have my usual uke events but I have something exciting. My sister and brother-in-law from Colorado and my sister from Stoneham are coming tomorrow through Thursday. I can barely wait.

This entry was posted on September 29, 2026 at 2:10 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.