To my children:

I wish you could have known me when I was young. I think you would have liked me.  Maybe you wouldn’t have rolled your eyes at me so often and thought I was weird.

I used to have energy. I could stay out all night and go to work the next day.  I would have never been caught dead in bed before eleven p.m. Pajamas weren’t my main wardrobe choice.

The young me could remember people’s names and their phone numbers.  I remembered their birthdays and sent out cards. Post it notes were not a staple in my life needed to remember the most ordinary details.

The face you see each  morning used to be free of wrinkles.  I had a neck to match it.  It was just as nice with or without makeup.

My body wasn’t creaking when I walked up and down the stairs and my stomach was flat. My bra only had one hook instead of the three needed now to defy gravity.

I wore high heeled shoes and danced in them all night.

I was carefree and thought nothing about going out at 3 a.m. to do my laundry in the deserted laundromat.  I didn’t worry about anything happening to anyone most of all myself.

I was smart.  I knew things without having to spend ten minutes trying to figure out what I was trying to remember to tell you. People thought  I was funny and liked to hang out with me.  I know that is a shocker.

If you had only know me then, I think you would have liked me. Sorry you got stuck with the middle aged me.