theheartspeaksweb

When my brow burns and there is a tickle in my nose

I pop a pill and sip my saffron tea

I snuggle up with a hot water bag

I tuck myself and I put my feet up

But I long for you and your cool hand on my eyes

I miss you mommy and your lap where I’d rest my head

I am many decades old but I still want thee

When my brow burns and there a tickle in my nose.

I was miss goody two shoes,

At least on the surface,

At least how my parents and most of my friends knew me.

I was born to conform,

and born to make sure that my parents smile

and born to be teachers pet

so I conformed.

I did not skip classes

My head was stuck in books

I worked hard and earned from as soon in my life as I could

I never caught any first-day-first-shows

And believed when my dad said that our legacy was “hard-work”

and that he had nothing else but ethics and morals to share

I did not go out with friends at work

I did not party hard

Like everyone around me seemed to do

And that is how life was,

for more than 30 years.

And then I had you – my little girl

And you have been hard work,

All day and all…

Call it mid-life crisis, or just plain living life, but I started taking vocal lessons at 38. I had just finished my Masters in Engg., had moved countries and worked from home. So I needed to challenge myself a little more than the usual chores and raising a 5 year old. I just needed more than a normal day to keep me going.

So, I looked up a music school in the vicinity, read the reviews and enrolled without thinking any more. I can get cold feet very quickly. Cut to the first class and I was a bundle of nerves. I asked my husband to drive me the 2 mile distance as I didn’t trust myself enough to be able to make it on my own.

I reached the class and had the instructor asking me why I decided to learn at this age. I wasn’t prepared to answer…

I wish one could wake up one fine morning – may be in their late 50s – and be beautifully silver. But it is not meant to be that way. Or, may be, some of us make it more difficult for ourselves. Perhaps, it is a women thing – refusing to go gray. No, I am not generalizing, before you take offence! I am just talking about some of us – like me. Going gray has more difficult phases than all of the life put together, doesn’t it? Let’s see how many phases could one decipher. If you have more to add, feel free to comment and critique.

1. Dreaded Sparkle – the first or the first few grays. They have no right to be there. Especially if you are in your 20s! They ought to be snipped or clipped or plucked or somehow dealt with. Aaah, now there are none…