Wearing Purple | Grandma's Ramblings

Several years ago my daughter brought me a book of poems and reflections on growing old.  When she gave it to me she assured me she did not think I was old – but she thought I would enjoy looking at my mother’s world (since my mother was old).

Too quickly the years have passed.  My mother is now deceased (how strange that sounds) and I AM becoming the old woman in the family.

I laughed when I first read this poem.  I still laugh – but I relate to it so much more than I did when she gave it to me.

So – for all my “old lady friends” I want to share this poem by Jenny Joseph.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.