Ladies of a Certain Age ~ for those invisible powerful, dynamic, vital women

I recently emailed my friend and asked her how she celebrated her birthday. Her response really touched me. “I had an ordinary day,” she wrote and then relayed she had been with family and friends, nothing unusual or special.  

The words “ordinary day” seemed to roar and reverberate through my body and soul. It dawned on me how special ordinary days can be. So??

What was going on with me? So the next morning, I asked myself in front of my kitchen window with a cup of coffee and notebook in hand. The answer was surprisingly impressive and has changed my life.

I looked out the window and saw the sun shining on the newly leafed out hawthorn tree, the clouds in the sky appeared to have been painted by Georgia O’Keefe, herself, and yellow tulips opened to greet the new April day.  How beautiful and peaceful the scene was.

Dog Dolly was softly chomping on a white boiled bone under the kitchen table at my feet. A tuxedo cat, Katie Lane Lynch, squatted a parking space in my lap. She had not let me out of her sight since I arrived home from vacationing in Greece a couple of weeks before.  

Ah, Greece, I thought. I had seen many ancient wonders, olive trees, and beautiful sunsets reflected in three different seas: the Mediterranean, Aegean, and Ionian.  I met wonderful people, ate sumptuous meals, and listened to divine music played on antiquated string instruments. 

It was a humbling experience to travel to this ancient land, a dream of my girlhood come true.  

But, it was so good to be home—to see the sun highlight new leaves, ponder the puffiness of floating clouds, and see the unfolding of springtime in the yellow tulips again. The contented chewing sound of a favorite bone and soft cat purring seemed strangely like divine organ church music.

It was easy to be drinking strong, hot, black coffee (cowboy coffee, my chuck-wagon-cook grandmother used to call it) in my pajamas, no makeup on, hair uncombed. Not to mention my kitchen table is a hop, skip, and jump from my bedroom. I didn’t have to dress for the day, descend many steps and turn and twist around corners of buildings way older than my 75 years.  There was no breakfast line to go through, with mask and gloves on as required by the Greek authorities. I did not have to make any decisions about what to eat for breakfast.  I was having ‘my usual” cereal and fruit.  It tasted so good.  

I slept soundly on orchid-colored flannel sheets on a bed heated with an electric blanket the night before.  I didn’t have to figure out how to turn on and off lights.  I just said, “Alexa, turn on or turn off plug one.” She always  cheerfully responded with “Ok.” The room’s temperature was easy to control. There is never a need to assess how to stop shivering,  

Did I mention being keen on using my toilet? In Greece, like many other parts of the world, the plumbing system readily clogs if you throw toilet paper down it. So you throw the used paper in a waste can close by. Sometimes I forgot and felt awful. It is such a habit to throw it in the toilet. Usually, I empty my bathroom trash can once a week. In Greece, that would be such a stinky chore unless you did it at least daily. 

Thinking about the view from the kitchen window again, I realized I was looking at my backyard during a premier time of year: spring.  Only a month or so ago, there were no budding leaves on the hawthorn tree, no sprightly green tulip leaves could be seen, and the puffy clouds didn’t remind me of Georgia O’keefe’s paintings because the sun was still ‘a sleepyhead.’ 

I sent my friend an email asking her to expand on her thoughts about the description she used for her birthday, ‘an ordinary day.’ 

She wrote back, “I’m not sure where I got that but it seems to me as we age the ordinary changes and can be fleeting as we face the inevitable losses that come our way. I guess I’m trying to focus on being grateful for the little, ordinary things.  My faith reminds me that all things are sacred. Just noticing and saying thank you is a good practice for me.”

What beautiful words!

For me, I came to understand I didn’t have to go to ancient lands to experience the beauty and comfort of each day. Of course, it was glorious to see the sunset seemingly in the sea.  But, I am a mountain girl and am always in awe watching it set on the purple majesties of the Rocky Mountains or the red rock of the Book Cliff Mountains, particularly on mystical Mount Garfield, the sentinel of Colorado’s high desert, visible from my front porch. 

It’s good to travel. 

It is so good to come home.

I’m embracing an attitude of gratitude for an ordinary day—flannel sheets and all.  

Copyright – Elizabeth J. Wheeler, May 30, 2022