The clock shows barely 9pm and I’m in bed in the sheets in the twilight thinking about tomorrow and asking myself again, who am I?
Am I a child? A stubborn, lazy, dependent, independent child? Am I an old woman? A wise, crabby, Mother Goose? Am I just some lady? Just Some Lady would be the easiest persona to live up to. But that’s not the role I naturally fall into. It’s not the role that I have the luxury of having.
Teacher = old lady
Mom = old lady
Daughter = child
myself = …. child?
I need one me. One lady. One age.
I am meeting a young woman tomorrow, a woman just about young enough to be my daughter. And it’s strange because I didn’t feel as though this were a teacher/student arrangement until I thought of her age a few minutes ago. And when I had this thought a few minutes ago, I instantly went from peer to Mother Goose. And thus revived my identity crisis. My age crisis.
But, no, that’s silly. She’s no less an adult than I am. From what little I know of her, she’s likely more of one. From what little I know of her, she’s someone I want to get to know better.
I guess I just don’t want to be Mother Goose in this situation. I want to have fun.
It sounds like I’m in this for myself, doesn’t it? Not very teacherly of me…
What’s my role again?
I want her to get out of this everything she wants to get out of it. And she will because she wants to. Because we both want her to.
I feel better now. I don’t know what age that is. But, whatever.