Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Looking at Faces

I find myself looking at older women, those who are around my age 50+ coasting towards 60 and older. Wondering what their thoughts and dreams were, and now are. Are they like me full of angst, longing for the impossible, wondering is this all? We strive for what? Lovers who disappoint or disappear; children who are grown with their own problems and families; careers or jobs that, when all is said and done, are just another way to fill time. This thing called time that keeps intolerably moving towards . . .not the dreams we once had.

Occasionally, I see a serene face, but not often. And sometimes, when our glances meet, I see a sad face as our haunted eyes slide past each other. Is she as aware as I am--of what we momentarily revealed? Most times, it is the false faces that I see, carefully blank, hiding behind a facade of nothing--the older woman that knows she is invisible.

The saddest are the elder women, late 60's, 70s working as baggers in supermarkets and behind fast-food counters. Our tribal elders, their life experiences wasted because they are not needed or cared for with the dissipation of our extended families. These women, with the tired eyes, have no facades left--shattered disillusion is lined on their countenances, heavy on bowed shoulders and always, always behind their fleeting smiles.

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