I am having an evening to myself, a marvelous rare indulgence. I should have gone to the gym while my husband sheppards a bill in the general assembly and my daughter works late, but I had a piece of salmon that needed cooking so I decided to come home first. I turned on the oven and popped the pistachio crusted fish from Whole Foods in and went to take off my work clothes. I decided to play Mati Hari with my black silk robe on over my red undies and a nice glass of Petite Shiraz in hand. The salmon was almost done by the time I opened the wine so I put the broccoli in the microwave for a few minutes, then added a bit of mango balsamic dressing to it for extra flavor. I find I love the interchange of delicate flavors, the fish done to perfection, the tang of the dressing, the crunch of the green veg, the lovely warming wine. I am most content to sit on my sofa feeling sexy and in tune with the silence. No TV blares, no chatter, not even music intrudes.
I should read my Sun, but I have no idea how long I am by myself and I want to savor the moment. It may seem that I am an indulgent woman in general, but when I look back through my day, through my life, I am astounded at how little of my time is actually spent on me. It is better now than it was when the children were little, when every minute was devoted to their needs, but even so I have spoiled my girl and my husband shamelessly. I know those of you who live alone cannot comprehend, but sitting here in the light of a single lamp seems like a small piece of heaven.
My father once took a picture of me posed on the sink cabinet in our master bathroom, the reflection of the back of my head in the mirror, and behind me, a thousand reflections of other Elaines, to infinity and beyond. It was taken with a Polaroid camera and someone must have coveted it because it is lost to me now except for the memory. I was 26, newly divorced, beautiful as I have ever been in my life with no one to know it except for my father. I wish he had told me I was beautiful because I had no idea. My elder son, who understands and adores women, understands and adores me, told me once that he had found that beautiful women never seem to know there own power. He spent a lot of time amazed that he could not convince them, and finally, giving up on the arguments, quit fearing beauty in women.
I have grown old and it terrifies me, and yet, the ruin of a beautiful woman is still a beautiful woman. A friend told me that age is irrelevant because after a time it is not looks but lifestyle we see in the faces around us. His father died this week, defiant to the end, exactly like my father who died three years ago this week. I tried to comfort him as we all do with ineffectual words. I know there are those of you who are fearful of aging, of dying, and I’m going to say this once and then I will try to be silent on the issue. It is not the dying that counts, but the living. If each of those pictures of me in the mirror were different, if each were a year in my life, I wonder what the last picture would be. I have no death wish today, just curiosity. Today I am flesh and blood and sexy lingerie. I have no promise for tomorrow and neither do you. Carpe Diem.
Not the post I had expected, but a delight none the less. This has been a week consumed with the topic for me. We buried my 37 year old nephew two years ago today.Five years ago, a 12 year old niece. Age is a blessing for those who can handle it. Kudos to you, you handle it so well!
ReplyDeleteI am a woman of many moods, most of them happy, but we all live with the darkness too. Anniversaries are the hardest time. Sorry for your loss my dear.
ReplyDeleteAs you can see from my blog, I did seize the day. Thank you so much.
ReplyDeleteAnd, we're NOT old.
ReplyDeleteWhat is the poem... what is the poem... about the man who preferred the woman's face now, "ravaged" by time?
ReplyDeleteI forget.
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I decided to play Mati Hari with my black silk robe on over my red undies and a nice glass of Petite Shiraz in hand.
--As I said to the three women discussing their cats at the cocktail reception last night, "I can't relate to any of you people--but I enjoy DRINKING!"
CEO my congrats. Some days I am old, some I am 14, but it has always been that way.
ReplyDeleteM@ I think it is a book by Duras, The Lover. "One day, I was already old, in the entrance of a public place, a man came up to me. He introduced himself and said: “I’ve known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you’re more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged.”
I remember reading it when I was younger, when It meant nothing to me because, like a woman still with child, the reality of the thing had not happened yet. You cannot read a person's character when they are in the flush of youth. I guess I should consider my face a sign of good character, right M@?
"I have no promise for tomorrow and neither do you. Carpe Diem." Splendid way to end the post..I enjoyed the part about you playing Mati Hari..what a riot Spellbound.
ReplyDeleteAlone with myself is a place I rarely am. I find it amazing that in 10 years I have been there less than 36 hours. I wonder what I will find when I venture there again. Hopefully a sexy goddess.
ReplyDeleteAnniversaries of loss. They suck. Nearly a month and still thoughts of mortality weigh me down. The mirror and photos show me a sadness that surprises me with its depth and poignancy and with how much it has leached through the mask I wear for everyday life. But as you say, I am alive and will live every moment with joy and verve.
Great post. For years I've asked for three days by myself. Someday, when I finally get it, I'll probably end up missing them....Or maybe I'll organize the house and write a novel...Or maybe I should sit on the couch in a thin T-shirt and panties, eating pasta with garlic and capers and reading The Sun. (My version of sexy, my favorite dish, and my favorite read.) :)
ReplyDeleteBrook I am quite sure you have that sexy goddess thing going on. While my father's death left a gaping wound it also was a catharsis, freeing me from old ways of thinking about myself. Death is rarely a complete tragedy.
ReplyDeleteVariations I was surprised at myself for being so indulgent. Usually when they are gone I just eat soup or some leftovers. I think it was because of the red lingerie that I had worn that day. It was pretty and I did not want to take it off. I added my long black silk robe and a pair of high heels for good measure and voila. I decided I deserved the best for a change. Too bad I forgot the capers.
I am totally a sexy goddess. As a Libra I live to be sexy-and melodramatic. Still, I am taking a weekend to be alone(Greta Garbo voice)soon and cannot wait. Let the countdown begin to quiet that permeates and refreshes the soul.
ReplyDeleteToday I am flesh and blood and sexy lingerie.
ReplyDeleteLOVE this. Absolutely love it.
"a thousand reflections of other Elaines, to infinity and beyond"
ReplyDelete--heh, this statement deserves a post of its own. Splendid.