Time repeats itself through the transference of one role to another. To experience wisdom has become the reward for growing older. Let me explain:
My daughter is thirty-three. When I spend time with her, there is an invisible mirror raised. Time places her on one side while I stand on the other. The younger version and older version of shared DNA stares at each other. Vanessa cannot see my side of the mirror. She does not know what it feels like to be fifty-eight, carrying the decades of experiences that molded me into what I am today.
Her sight is fuzzy; she cannot see my wisdom from arriving at this plateau where I stand, forged from my mistakes and accomplishments. All my dreams and disappointments. The anxiety of raising my children until now they have their own. The price paid is evident by my wrinkles and gray hair. Meanwhile, at thirty-three, she is blonde with a smooth complexion. Her body parts are firm and mobile. I miss that younger version of myself, but that’s a different story.
I’ve got the advantage. I confess it is a lot easier being fifty-eight than thirty-three.
When I was thirty-three, life was ahead of me. I wondered and planned and strived for my goals with a determination that they would come true. Now at fifty-eight, I am able to look back at my life and feel grateful I survived the dark holes and worrisome stress that causes one to smoke, drink too much, and cry rivers. It’s my daughter’s turn to wiggle through the angst of life; there’s not much I can do but…well, buy her some clothes.
When I was thirty-three, my mother occasionally took me clothes shopping at a local department’s store. I knew our trips were a way to bond. Just the two of us looking in the sales rack. I didn’t have much money because I was a single parent which means any extra money for clothes goes to the children.
That’s why she would buy me something to help out my limited wardrobe.
My heart ached for my mother today. Without thinking about it, I called up my daughter and asked if she’d accompany me to the local boutique in town. I bought her a few pieces of clothing to vamp up her limited wardrobe.
In that moment, I was connected to Mom. I was myself. I was Vanessa at thirty-three, and we all swirled around as one person in the present.
I like being fifty-eight.
What will I feel like in twenty-five years at eighty-three? I don’t have the perspective yet.
Cindy Bruchman 
Nice!
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Thanks, Jen.
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Lovely post, Cindy.
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Thank you, Don. Felt inspired today to share.
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I think its profitable to introspect and place in perspective Cindy. I enjoyed this.
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I am glad you liked it!
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An excellent, reflective, post, with a fine conclusion
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Thank you for the kind assessment, Derrick.
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Lovingly expressed, Cindy. Having never had children, I lived my life not knowing that connection. But you made me sense it this morning.
Best wishes, Pete. x
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I appreciate that, Pete. Trying to blog when the inspiration hits. Take care, Cindy
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A lovely post Cindy, I hope your daughter reads it sometime.
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Hi Fraggle. I will pass it along. Hope you are well, Cindy.
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Just beautiful.
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Thank you, Paul!
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That was wonderfully poignant and simply beautiful…
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These insights happen and I usually keep the to myself. Yesterday, I decided to share. Thank you for your support!
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I will have to ask my mom what it’s like to be 83, Cindy. I enjoyed your reflection. It is different with boys in many ways as they are not the same as girls.
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I have two and I completely relate. My Mom liked the adage, “A son is yours until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life.”
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This is terrific…thanks for sharing. There’s a scene in the film “Lady Bird” where Mom and daughter are shopping in a used clothing store, arguing about something minor, when sudden Siorse Ronan blurts out “WOW” and they stop fighting to marvel over a dress…the bond they share
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I remember the scene. Bickering can be the white noise but love can block the nonsense in a second.
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That’s exactly what they manage to convey in that scene…
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This might be one of my favorite posts of yours. I love the reflection on time passed. I harp on that myself, probably way too much!
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What a fine thing to say, Tom.
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This is one of your best, Cindy. How fifty-eight and thirty-three connect you two, and pull in your mother – wow! Hang on to those memories, and keep taking your daughter shopping.
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You are so sweet. Thank you kindly, my friend.
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You’re very welcome, Cindy.
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❤️❤️❤️🇳🇬🇳🇬🇳🇬
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I’m estranged from some of my family. Stupid human passions have separated us. I hope I don’t we all don’t go the grave that way. We laughed, we loved, we played together. And now it seems so long ago.
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I am estranged, too! I think all families are complicated. Egos and petty jealousies get in the way…
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I too had my daughter at 25. Can relate to everything you say, except that my mother never took me clothes shopping. My dad was the one who would give me some money for clothes:).
Would be fun to live another 25 years. Two old ladies hanging out together in the mall – it sounds cute:)
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Beautiful and inspiring😊
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thank you kindly
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Powerful and insightful. Talking about mothers’ advice to their daughter – I wrote an article about this recently Titled “Mothers’ advice for her daughters” – Feel free to check it out – https://authorjoannereed.net/a-mothers-wish-for-her-daughters/
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Welcome, and thanks. I will read it.
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I gotta read this a second time.
I relate, on a few levels. Thank you
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