I've been trying to remember the dreams and aspirations I had as a 13-year-old. Did I imagine myself in 30 years? I doubt it. How can a barely-teen-age girl possibly conceive of what it's like to be a middle-aged woman? I do know this much: being middle-aged is nothing like what I thought it would be. In my mind, I am not 43! But... it doesn't matter. Life is good, and I am happy with who I am.
As I've been contemplating these things I was reminded of this poem I came across several years ago:
She came tonight as I sat alone..
The girl I used to be....
And she gazed at me with her earnest eyes
And questioned reproachfully:
Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame,
All the wonderful things to do?
Where is the mansion of stately height
With all its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?
And as she spoke, I was very sad
For I wanted her to be pleased with me...
This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.
So gently rising, I took her hand
And guided her up the stairs
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
Innocent, sweet, and fair.
And I told her that these are my only gems,
And precious they are to me;
That silken robes, is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.
My mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltered walls
For the dear ones who come and go.
And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me.
And I saw the woman that I am now
Pleased the girl I used to be.