Who is That by Fran Spears


OMG, who is that? I turned and saw a woman staring straight at me. Her hair was wet and limp and she was dripping water on the floor. Her face showed signs of ageing and her skin was pale with wrinkles. I looked back at her and noticed she was frowning. Why did I get the feeling that I should know this woman? Why did she look so familiar?
She turned sideways and put her hand on her protruding belly as if to hide it. It didn’t hide it though, it just accentuated the tell tale signs of age that her hands already showed. I was reminded of the classic song Sadie as I looked at her. Her hands, her stance, slightly bent and the thickness of her waist, once small and petite, gave her away. There were life lines, if only they could speak. What a tale they could tell. She dried herself and turned to walk away, her steps were slow and deliberate as she left the room. She seemed to struggle a little, as though she was tired and had no energy.
I couldn’t see her now. The mirror was behind her. She had past sixty years on this earth and sometimes felt as though she had been here much longer. She dressed and made her way to the kitchen for a much needed coffee. The morning had been long, house to clean and the dreaded lawns to mow. She had no-one to help her now and it was getting harder every time she had to retrieve the mower from the shed. Without even knowing it, the years had crept up on her. Her youthful body and smooth complexion had disappeared.
The years had not been kind in some ways, but she had weathered the storms, even learned to live with her illness. She had plenty of fight left in her yet and she knew she would not give up easily. She looked a little different than I remembered her. She was not as trim and she had slowed down a bit but she was determined. Determined to fight till her last breath, determined to show the world that she may be insignificant in the big scheme of things, but she was a part of this world, no matter how small a part. Tomorrow, when there were no lawns to mow, the spring would be back in her step. Tomorrow, she would worry again about her diet, tomorrow she would remember how blessed she was.
The woman, who had stared at me was someone. She was just one woman but she was all the women in the world. She had been a girl, a wife, a mother and a grandmother. She had been through good times and bad. She had excelled and she had struggled. Her youth was gone but she was the beauty of all she had endured. She was all women, she was me.

Published by Fran Spears · 3 May ·


Leave a Reply