Growing Up and Old

When my grandmother died there was a lot of talk about where her mind was. She suffered from dementia and spent most of any conversation repeating, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Poor woman. Physically she was fine right up until the end, but mentally she was stuck somewhere in her past where physical punishment or pain was, for lack of a better word, apparent to her. Of course when she would ask me that question, I would lean over from my right close to her chair, repeatedly kiss her cheek and say, "No Nan, I won't hurt you. But I will love you forever." She'd smile briefly, before resuming her worry. Poor soul. Nana grew up, grew old and then settled back into a place no one from this generation could fathom. For no one we knew ever hurt her.

After Nana's funeral my aunt mentioned to my mom that when she looked over at me, all of a sudden she realized that I was all grown up. The shock of it. Mother of three, (one a hormonal teen), and approaching 50 and I'm all grown up. I knew it would happen...

And I laughed when I heard this, and rebuffed her conclusion. "You're wrong. I'll never grow up." And I hope not to. I want to be able to sit down in front of my aunt on the couch and have her brush my graying hair. I yearn for that special time and look that she now shares with my daughters. A time and look that I graciously acknowledge and let go, knowing the love that it contains. How lucky my girls get that time.

But I'm not grown up. I called my banjo teacher today to postpone this week's lesson. When he answered I heard a cheery girl say, "Hi Arthur," and it was me. Me the banjo student calling the teacher asking for a generous extension. Me the girl -- approaching 50, who dresses more like my daughters in capris and oversized tshirts. Me, who wears my favorite faded baseball hat from World Youth Day almost everywhere I go. I don't feel a half century.

So when will I grow up? When will I grow old? And when I am old, just how old will I be? Will the locals whisper, "See that old lady wearing the tevas, she makes cheeses, maple syrup and brews beer and hard cider. She's about as old as dirt and she still plays the banjo."

I wonder when I'm all grown up if I will play it well.