Wrinkles in Time

Making my bed this morning, I noticed a number of wrinkles in the covers, and tugged at a few, trying to straighten them before deciding that was good enough, and walking away. Once upon a time I would have left the bed covers perfectly smooth. That woman – the one I used to be – believed that if something was worth doing, it deserved obsessive attention and care. She certainly would not have made a bed poorly or walked away while a wrinkle in the covers remained.

What happened to that vigorous woman? She is gone, replaced by a disabled old woman, who looks back at that old self with astonishment and jealousy. That old self was endlessly studying, planning, figuring out how to accomplish her goals, and pursuing them with joy and strength. She used a 35-pound crowbar to move 700-pound slabs of rock to make a tiered garden on the slope behind our house. She raised vegetables and made baked goods to load in the truck at four a.m. and carry to the local farmer’s market, where she set up a tail-gate display and served customers until late mid-morning. She gave parties, invited people to dinner, and was hostess to many large family dinners. 

She was a wonder, yet something was missing. In her strength she was somewhat arrogant and indifferent to others. She hadn’t experienced sufficient pain. Her body was strong, reliable.

Now, many years later, having suffered pain, lost strength, and deteriorated, she is a different woman. She has learned humility and empathy for others. She has learned to ask for help from others and to give thanks for it. She knows how to reach out, one human being to another, look them in the eye, and smile, as if to say, “I know what it is to live and struggle, yet we two find humor, and persevere.”

Her bed covers are wrinkled, as is her face, but they are merely the surface. They are merely the wrinkles of time.

San Xavier Mission near Tucson, Arizona.

Copyright 2018 by Shirley Domer