I'm not what you think.

This is a journal entry. It says "I'm not what you think." It's a greeting card of a queens dress and in the inside of the card is a Gothic cartoon girl. It opens in the middle to show the black dress within.


Here it is with one flap open. I put my head on it.


Here it is all the way open. Gothic black trench coat, black platform boots... I did this because at the time I was feeling unnoticed. Actually, I'm still unnoticed. That is what happens at 55.
I was visiting my sister not too long ago. Her daughters don't know how cool she is. Actually both my sisters. Their daughter's only know them as "grandma" or "mom". I remember them when they were young. They were WAAAAYYY cool. Their daughters don't know. They don't know how much fun they are, or how much they love to laugh and giggle and how much they just KNOW about everything.
My son doesn't know how cool his dad is. Or, how I was when I was young. He thinks I'm just a frumpy mom. I suppose at this time in my life, I am a frumpy mom.
I know my mom was a wild cat. Although if you saw her now you would think of her as a sweet grandmother. She met my dad when she was 17. He was 35. hmmmm...
It makes me sad to think of how much (of us, of who we really are) is lost to everyone who is young.
Sad because of how we are defined by our age, and not by our totality.
I know that I'm a black trench coat wearing, tattoo bearing, bleached out blond with black
thigh high boots AND a great mom and wife and woman who already has a life time of happiness, pain and wisdom. Too bad the children only see the 55 year old mom that's working at Starbucks and that's been married forever.
I'm not what you think.
xoxo
k