Abbe’s Ruminations – November 2022

Can you see me? I’m not very tall. I’ve been that way since day one. Although when you’re born, no one thinks about that. They’re enthralled by the pudgy cheeks, the dimple, and that you were born with eyebrows and curls. No one ever notices height.
Can you hear me? (If this was a live performance, I’d ask you to move the microphone up or down—remember I’m not tall) I never heeded the saying, kids are to be seen, but not heard. If you are small all bets are off on this one.
I learned early on to speak my mind with authority. I’ve a commanding voice when out in public. Here is an example of how three hunters once described me to my partner as they came down from hunting on our private road. “Watch out for the crazy lady who patrols the road. “She’s a mother bear -her voice echoes- and she took up the entire roadway. Shooed us away with her bellows” Yes, that was little old me.
There’s no denying that size matters, as does the cold, the rain, and anything that impedes one’s way.
My desire to walk in the late afternoon has been hampered by the rain and wind, the rotation of the sun in the sky, and the onset of daylight-saving time.
I don’t like being wet or cold or a walking duck as cars whip by. Here is my solution. I bought a Land’s End quilted down coat, hooded, and treated to be water repellent. Genuis. I also bought On-Cloud running shoes—also waterproof. Here is the result. I promise you; I have not been compensated by anyone for these recommendations.
I bought these online—I shop this way because no store carries clothes or shoes that are my size. I bought with wisdom and purpose—also to be truthful, they looked great on the models.
I tried out the ensemble on Halloween, a 25- minute walk to my daughter’s home, where 1000’s of children and families paraded through the decorated neighborhood. With a spring in my step, I allowed the wind and rain to pour down. The hood blocked the wind, and I felt like Snow White, striking in elegance, a proud woman of substance. One to turn heads.
In fact, many cars stopped to let me through, people waved, pedestrians paused to greet me, chit-chat, or moved aside. Yes, Yes, I proclaimed inside my new coat, this is the ticket—white elegance. That is until I returned home and looked in the mirror. I suspect the vision onlooker's saw wasn’t Snow White, but the Pillsbury Dough Boy, or the Marshmallow Woman. I recalled the time I had donned a hazmat outfit at a police citizens training—and awkward ball lumbering along.
No matter. I took off my winter costume, to find myself. I stood tall, powerful, and perfectly aligned. I was seen, I was protected, and felt comfortable. Isn’t that the definition of home; a person feeling comfortable in one’s own skin, being seen by others for what they are, not a projection of perfection.
I have no memory of when I was an adorable baby. Throughout life as I moved from one setting, one milestone to next, the constants within me have blossomed changed but ultimately melded into an ageless being. I brought myself home, nurtured my older self. I proclaim--elders are to be seen and heard.

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