This morning, as I drove through town I saw many women walking. They were doing it for exercise, dressed in their comfortable clothes all with determined looks on their faces. Many were closing in on my age bracket [up there]. Only one was talking on her phone. And then there was the woman who walked with even more determination. Head slanted to the right, favoring one leg, hands curled under she moved with surprising speed. It was arthritis, not hard to spot if you know what you're looking at, and not hard to imagine the pain she was feeling. But it did not slow her down.
Then there was my doctor. I complimented her on her jacket, a woman's suit coat, black with a rose pattern in beautiful colors. She smiled. 'It must be 30 years old', she said. 'They just don't make things like they used to.' I smiled back, liking the fact that she was ok with wearing it with such pleasure instead of wearing something designed to impress.
And tonight I watched the season premiere of The Good Wife. A lead character in the series decides to leave her job, her security and set out on a new course. The last scene finds her stepping into the elevator, turning to face the reception area of the business she had started from bootstrap some years before and whispers 'Goodbye'.
You go girl.
