My grandmother didnt become a granny until she was fortyfour, and the moment she did, she seemed to fit the role perfectly. She never shuffled about in a flowery kerchief with a cane; even in her later years she carried herself with neatness and dignity. I still remember the summer we sewed a bright red dress together for a doll. I was thrilled and asked her if shed ever want such a dress. She chuckled and replied, What am I, a granny? That phrase Im a granny became her refrain. When her first grandchild arrived, she slipped straight into the box that society and her own mind had drawn for her, and she lived inside it for the rest of her life, just as almost every woman around her did.
Nowadays I often hear people in their forties complain about how much the world has thrown at them and how hard it is to live in an age of constant change. Yet that very generation has shattered the old frames, the customs and the firm ideas about what age means. Can you, for a moment, imagine calling a woman who is just over forty a granny? Shes not even a woman yet, shes still a pretty young lady. She may not be fresh as a spring blossom, but she is still a lady, because her mindset is geared toward youth, not the other way round.
In todays world you can only guess a womans age, and sometimes you can hardly tell at all without the surrounding clues. Im a regular at a tiny café on a side street in York. The barista, a petite, graceful girl named Lucy, already knows my order, and we always exchange a few light comments. She looks like she has just finished university. One morning I walk in and see a hulking fellow nearly two metres tall, broadshouldered standing beside her. I wonder whether he could be her boyfriend; after all, shes practically a Tom Thumb next to him. He leans over the counter, plants a kiss on her cheek, and then, in a deep voice, asks, Mum, could you spare a couple of hundred pounds? If someone had told me that the lad was her son, I would have been far less surprised.
The best thing about modern women is that they can decide for themselves how they want to look, which style and which age they feel most comfortable wearing. One day they may want braids and a tattoo on the bikini line; the next they might reach for Louboutins and a dress with a daring plunge. Sometimes they opt for trainers and ripped jeans, other times for lemonyellow blouses, narrow skirts and straw hats a different outfit for every season. And yes, red dresses, even mini ones with a seductive zipper running the length of the back, are still on the table, and no one raises an eyebrow or twitches a finger at their temples. Even if someone does, she simply doesnt care.
Theres another point that matters greatly. Remember the old saying, If youth knew, if old age could? It has all but disappeared. The middleaged generation has bleached it out like a stain on a white tablecloth. We now know a great deal, yet we are still active enough to use that knowledge. This remarkable cohort refuses to anchor itself to any one shore the elders push us away with their fear, the youngsters eye us with suspicion. So the ship drifts on its own, thrilled by the thrill of its own adventures.
The most important realisation Ive come to lately and one Im eager to share is that age does not limit possibilities; it expands them. We no longer have to search for ourselves because we have already found who we are. Now we can hone our craft or try fresh techniques in the fields that bring us joy. We no longer feel compelled to mingle with everyone, inviting strangers into our lives; instead we focus on keeping those who beat in time with our own hearts. We can afford the luxury of pleasant company, not merely the necessity of conversation as before. In love and intimacy we now chase quality, having learned long ago that quantity can never replace it, and we can give youth a hundred points extra.
We dont rush our children to grow up faster, because weve seen how quickly that happens. We aim to savour their childhood, filling it generously with the things we missed out on. We have long understood that no amount of money whether pounds, euros or dollars can buy happiness, health or loyalty. We also know that the road we travel toward a goal is often more important than the goal itself. Those who cannot enjoy the process are unlikely to be delighted by the result. We have proved everything to ourselves, learned from our own mistakes, felt how swiftly time flies. The picture of life is already sketched; now is the moment to add the fine details and graceful strokes that turn a painter into a master and a canvas into a masterpiece.
When you grasp all this, you suddenly realise that right now your possibilities are limitless. You can learn to dance, to sing, to play the harp, to pick up a new language, to scuba dive, to ride a horse, to ski or to rollerblade. You can blow glass, drive a car, paint Christmas baubles, paddle a kayak, set a mosaic, keep bees, decorate a playground, throw pottery, stitch with beads or with simple thread, bake delicious cakes, ferment cabbage for sauerkraut or make homemade pasta. You can travel and see with your own eyes the places you have only heard about. You can adopt a dog, take in a third cat, shoot your own short film or perform on stage, move to the countryside, or finally start the hobby youve postponed for years because of a busy schedule. You can lose yourself in a new novel, welcome another child into the world, or simply wander alone along a park path, letting the mist veil the morning as you sip a steaming mug of tea with a hint of lemon balm, savoring each mouthful of drink, of autumn, of life.
In the end, we have come to understand that time is not infinite; therefore we must cherish our age of unlimited possibilities even more. The true lesson is that life does not shrink with the years it grows richer, and the freedom to choose our own shape, colour and rhythm is the greatest gift we can give ourselves at any age.
