chavvah

It's spring, and everyone is unwrapping. Bare heads and faces are becoming evident again for the first time in a very long while.

This time last year, I was resentful and angry every time I saw a little round woman of about my mum's age, with silvery hair and mischievious eyes. I was envious as they sat on benches and chatted with friends, and felt sick when I spotted them strolling through the marshy park with their grandchildren. I was bitter--why couldn't it be one of them, one of these lovely, yet anonymous mothers and grandmothers? A horrible thought, of course, but believe me, no one has been as hard on me as I have for thinking the things I was thinking a year ago.

Now, though, I see these same ladies, and it makes me smile, watching them pull back their hoods and turn their faces to the warm sun. The glow of their pink cheeks makes me happy, reminds me that there is still lots of good left in the world. Each one I see reminds me of a friend who, though gone, is fondly remembered and sometimes now even joked about in our little office.

I am grateful to you, Giseles of spring.

Gisele's obituary

My favourite part:

"She was known for her enthusiasm, creativity, her gift of multi-tasking and especially keeping numerous lists."