Saturday, March 15, 2014

my favourites

I haven't really stopped to think about self-image lately.
About how I see myself.
I did learn how someone else sees me though.
Today, in the library.
Beside the magazine rack.
A very little boy made his way through a forest of legs until he was beside me and called back to his father.
"I want THAT Christmas book. The one by the Grandma."
A question mark formed over my head.
The Christmas book was really a foodie magazine with a frosted Christmas cookie on the cover and the father and son were soon snuggled in an arm chair, 'reading' it together.
The question mark followed me home though, and I have pulled it out and looked it over a few times this evening.
I am a grandma.
A real life grandma.
And I love being a grandma.
Mind you I'm a very, very young one, right?
Now, it's not that I mind aging.
It's just that I saw myself as a person of no particular age.
I think that's it.
I saw myself as me.
The girl who became a woman.
But I guess I am the girl who became a grandmother.
And I celebrate that.
But there is still a feeling there.
An important feeling.
We are much more than how we are perceived by others.
I was never just a child or a teen or a mom or a grandma.
Those names are just titles.
I was who I would become and am who I was all rolled together.
Looks can be deceiving, but in this case the child spoke truth as children do so well, and as titles go, grandma is one of my favourites.

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