A few years ago, my mother mailed me a poem she’d written to me when I was approaching my teens. “I thought you’d like to have this,” she scrawled across the top of the paper.
I’d forgotten all about that poem until recently, when I was cleaning out my files (we’re getting ready to move – more on that another time. All I can say now is that it is a MAJOR pain in the ass undertaking, not to be taken lightly).
I must not have been treating my mother very kindly. At 11, I thought I knew a lot. (I knew nothing).
My mother constantly embarrassed me. I thought she acted too young for her age. I thought she was old. How could dance/sing/laugh/smile/breathe? I was a pretty good kid, too; I really was. I didn’t cause much trouble. I listened (most of the time). But I cringed and likely rolled my eyes at the mere existence of my mother.
I look at the poem, type-written in a thick black ink, some characters thicker than others. (If you remember using a typewriter, you’ll remember a time before there was a thing called white-out or correct-tape, when, to change or correct a letter, you had to type over that letter repeatedly until it changed to what you wanted. And then again, it wasn’t always clear exactly which letter it was meant to be.) Reading this poem, “To My Daughter on my 35th Birthday,” brings back “those” feelings – looking at my mother and thinking she was doing all the wrong things; saying all the wrong things; acting all the wrong ways.
She was old, after all.
THIRTY-FIVE.
I’ve picked out some of the best and truest parts:
What do you do when you reach thirty-five,
And you’re feeling young and gay and alive,
When your daughter, embarrassed, whispers to you,
Stop doing things ladies shouldn’t do!
It continues:
But look, I’m still young, can’t you see?
And now, I’m no longer afraid to be me,
No longer awkward, no longer shy,
I walk serenely with my head held high.
And ends with this:
As sure as I’m writing this, some day you will know,
That all I am telling you is really so.
Come to think of it, in my day I guess,
We thought that our parents were quite a mess!
Truer words were never spoken. Mom was so right. Pearls – absolute pearls – of wisdom.
What is mind-blowing to me is this: I am now more than 20 years older than my mother was when she sat down to write this message to me! And I can’t help but wonder if my kids – and kids in the outside world – look at me and women my age and think these
darkthoughts. (Of course they do!)
It’s likely, isn’t it? After all, generation after generation feels just about the same way about their parents. And as much as each generation evolves, makes exciting discoveries, and grows up with so much more than the generation that preceded them, this much is true: when it comes to seeing the generation before them for who they truly are…
age so easily clouds reality.
But what’s best about growing older is…
There’s an undeniable feeling of freedom and privilege that grows with each year. These midlife years are a gift: a time of discovery, freedom and confidence that younger years could never supply.
I look back on this poem, thinking about my young self. I think about my naiveté and my rush to judgement; I’m embarrassed by my lack of depth and patience. I picture my mother as she truly was – young, beautiful and vibrant; just beginning to discover and truly like herself, headstrong in her determination to stay the course.
I may not be grateful about everything that goes along with midlife (sorry, wrinkles and creaky knees, but you are NOT my friends) , but I’m grateful for the clarity and the ability to look back with wisdom, understanding and an intact sense of humor thrown in to cushion it all.
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Photo Credit: Photos.com
Cathy Chester says
That was so beautiful, Sheryl. My eyes welled up. Your mom is so special, and I am happy she gave you those poems. It’s amazing how smart our parents get as we get older, eh?
Guess we have to wait till our kids think the same about us!
What a wonderful post,.
SherylK says
I usually don’t save a lot of things from the past, but I’m glad I saved this one!
Nancy Monson says
How wonderful to find that poem again, Sheryl!
All I know about aging is that I definitely don’t feel my age psychologically. I believe we mature to a certain age–16 for some, 20 for others, 35 for others, whatever–and stay there for the rest of our lives.
Age is just a state of mind.
SherylK says
I don’t feel my age psychologically either, Nancy. I’m just an immature kid at heart, I guess. And I want to keep it that way!
Lou xoxo says
Wow, that hit me right in the gut. Makes me want to go hug my Mom and tell her how sorry I am that I was such an idiot. You’re amazing, Sheryl, (Thel), what a thought provoking and poignant column. Best of luck with the packing…
xoxo
Lou
SherylK says
So, Lou, did you go to tell your mom yet? I’m sure she’ll be happy when you do.
Irene S. Levine says
What a wonderful gift from your mom—along with the wisdom you can pass on to your kids!
SherylK says
Yes, a worthwhile gift I can use and use and never tire of!
Janie Emaus says
This is so true. I know I embarrass my daughter all the time and she’ already 32!
SherylK says
Oh no. At 32 she’s still embarrassed? Just what are you “guilty” of??
Brette says
Your mom was so insightful. I felt the same way about my mom that you did. I can remember it clearly.
SherylK says
Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday…thank goodness it’s not 🙂
ChristineGL says
What a truly wonderful poem. I remember feeling like you did, as a child. And I know what it is like to feel like your mother, at an age when really your confidence and wisdom and all else is actually just starting to build – when you are “no longer afraid to be me.” Love it. Very moving!
SherylK says
Hard to imagine thinking ANYONE is old at 35, isn’t it?
Alexandra says
The line that really resonated with me was this: “And you’re feeling young and gay and alive,” at 35. I wonder to what extent the media is responsible for the disconnect?
SherylK says
Good question, Alexandra…only that many years ago, did the media highlight/glorify youth as much as it does today?
kathi prien says
Your mom’s poem made me tear up because she was still so young at heart and should have been at only 35! I don’t have daughters but sometimes my sons “dismiss” me because I obviously don’t have anything important to say. They’ll wise up someday…
SherylK says
Mother of sons here, too. I remember my son being embarrassed when we were shopping and I stopped to look at certain clothing styles. “Mom, you’re too OLD to wear that!”
ruth pennebaker says
Wow, your mother sounds like an incredible person. So glad you and she both kept the poem.
Jane Boursaw says
Yes – I think every generation thinks the same!
grownandflown says
I agree with you, Sheryl, that I feel that I have the best perspective now, at midlife, than I have ever had. How wonderful that you mom kept the poem and sent it to you – a bit like time traveling. Good luck with the move preparations – nothing easy about that, at all!
SherylK says
Isn’t that the greatest feeling – to be able to see so clearly?
Heather L says
Yes, age does give us certain advantages.
Kathy @ SMART Living 365.com says
Hi Sheryl…I just found your website and agree with much of what I’ve read here. I think a BIG part of the problem is that most women our age aren’t sharing the good details about life in our 50s. As you say, there are so many advantages that in my opinion they definitely outweigh some of the disadvantages. At 58 my life is at a definite high point but as an optimist I can’t wait to see what comes next. Let’s keep spreading the word and let others know that life gets BETTER as we go….
SherylK says
Thanks so much for writing, Kathy. Middle age was always approached with so much caution and trepidation. We have to let folks out there know what the REAL truth is~
Mike Huiwitz says
Hello there Sheryl! Just a quick hello from me so you know I’ve been reading around the net and stumbled on your blog – I think via a comment you made on grownandflown.com. Anyhow, I like what you’re doing here!