I am a little old lady in waiting. Aged 58 and ^10/12ths years old at the time of the launch of this blog; by no standard or statistical myopia may I still refer to myself as middle aged. I might best be considered a gestating senior, a “dear”, but not quite past my best before date. On any given day, I feel somewhere between 28 and let’s say 78, but I trust that my litany of aches and pains, parcels of loosening skin, and what I generously refer to as laugh lines, together qualify me for the job – diarist of a little old lady… in waiting.

Time is passing quickly for me now. The days of the week are indecipherable from one another, and the weekends offer very little punctuation to the day-in and day-out of it all.  The seasons come and go in a seamless cycle of sun and snow, Fall back, and Spring ahead. Even the infamous Canadian winter lets go its icy claws and drops you into the week we call Spring in this country before you’ve had a chance to pack away your woollies or located your gardening hat. The summers that once seemed to last forever, now pass like a few glasses of fine wine on the deck, a BBQ, a bonfire; and then we’re right back inside, donning long sleeves and corduroy, and carving pumpkins. Stuff a couple of turkeys, and it’s time for another verse of Auld Lang Sein and another set of birthday candles to blow out. Father time always has the last word. And let me be clear my dear…it’s later than you think.

I remember reading some years back that C.S. Lewis or maybe his chum,Tolkien, suggested keeping a journal to slow down time, to distill meaning, to separate the wheat from the chaff of life.  Not to discredit the chaff…sometimes the best bits are in there. And so, The diary of a Little Old Lady… in waiting was conceived and is born. I present to you a place to muse on the wrinkles and cankles of life for women privileged to make it through the busy early and middle years. A virtual room of one’s own to explore the world that comes after the confines of the biological imperative, and the dictates of career building.

It is my intention to present an inventory and analysis of the myriad, idiosyncratic joys and steady challenges experienced by a little old lady in the making, as she learns to embrace her freedom after a lifetime of work and family commitments, in recovery from a socialized martyr syndrome that prioritizes the needs of everyone else first. 

We, little old ladies in waiting are, after all, the essential life orchestrators. We are the vacation planners, the gift getters, the Christmas makers, the cooks and meal planners, the keepers of the home, most often the primary parent, and the carer for aging parents, the cleaners and laundresses, the bill payers, accountants, and financial planners. It’s a lot to let go of all at once but I have faith that if we have the strength to carry such a load, we can find the grace to let it all go.

This blog is meant to be a recipe for a life well lived after 50 and beyond.  It’s a time for unpacking the weight of long held responsibilities and for learning to cultivate joy.  It’s the moment for putting ourselves first and exploring the projects and plans we placed on the back burner until we found time to get to them. That time is now, because if not now, then when?

I hope my friends and family will enjoy the sojourn as I stumble into this last quarter of my life, which I hope will be the least busy, the most purposeful, and despite the great losses we incur when we lose those closest to us, and consequently, huge, bloody hunks of ourselves; I hope these last unpromised years will be the most cherished and meaningful.  I pray my friends and peers will find comfort in my chronicles, in learning that they are not alone, and that my children will have a repository of story to explore when they are my age, and I am no longer able to share my unsolicited advice. Posthumous mothering if you will.

Regular features to be included:

• Profiles of interesting little old ladies
• What this Little old lady is Reading
• Little old lady to little old lady wisdom and quotes

And so…to begin

Next up – To retire or not to retire….that is the question.