United we stand. Divided we fall. We're tighter than pantyhose two sizes small!
Recently, I almost joined a workout center where sweet young things were sporting thonga-majigs that barely covered their thingamajigs. I gawked for an entire fifteen minutes feeling years older than I am. Working their pecs and abs like NFL linebackers, they did push-ups, pull-ups and jogged in place, all while texting.
The workout center promised to make me live a few years longer. Joining up was compelling, but in the end, I decided I would rather eat dirt. I am happier taking walks each morning with women my age and physical abilities, where conversation is more important than deep stretches.
We walk in a cemetery (like pets marking territory), and nobody living there cares that we all collect Social Security or wear baggy sweats instead of thongs. The flat graveyard makes our walks easier than walking up hills. Upshot? Knowing CPR is no an issue.
It's also nice to know that if and when any one of us remains at the cemetery permanently, the sisters will be nearby, if only in spirit. We wouldn’t miss anything so they will speak loudly.
Because I work alone at my computer most days, the early morning strolls (notice I didn't say power walks) are my way of socializing. Over time, my friends and I have shared searing social commentary, movie and theater reviews and recipes, not to mention some first-rate group therapy.
Frances is our pack leader. She is the quiet one and the most constant. I don't look forward to her wakeup call at 7 a.m. each morning, but I can depend on it. By eight o'clock I am perched on the front seat of her golf cart tooling toward Reebok Ridge or Boot Hill, as the case may be.
Talley is the gracious one, energetic and determined to work out all of the body kinks collected over the years. Dressed to the nines, she huffs and puffs along with the rest of us, and then she line dances. Talley makes me feel like I'm missing out on something really big.
Sweet Altha has a smile that won't go away, and when she is not walking with us, a large hole is created by her absence.
Gloria adores garden parties, people and dogs. She hatches projects and loves sharing ideas with us.
Paula gifts us with great stock tips when she is not in Florida. Hey Paula, has my ship come in yet?
Betty's knee replacement motivated her to use her feet instead of wheels, so now she roams around like a little bear just out of hibernation.
We try to avoid political or religious topics on our walks, and most of the time we succeed. A spirited discussion on current local affairs, however, is not totally off track. We are more apt to discuss arthritis medications than fashions, but the advent of a better-designed walking shoe is a real grabber.
Should the talk ever turn morbid, we need only to glance at the tombstones to change the subject. Like the ebb and flow of life itself, lively conversation is what fuels our pace.
Our men know better than to try joining our sassy group. They have sense enough to know that our eight o'clock walks each morning are about companionship, support and sisterhood, not sweaty exercise.
My women friends offer me compassion when needed and pats on the back when deserved. They don't give a hoot that I wouldn't be caught dead in a thong, even after I’ve become a permanent boneyard resident. Even then, my spirit will rise at eight a.m. to stroll the perimeter with my friends.
Sisters By Choice
Sisterhood, sisterhood. Calling others to walk.
And come together. Where each one can talk.
About what is going on. In different parts of the world.
Sharing tales with each other. Of when we were a girl.
Now, speaking as a woman Sometimes loud is good.
When we come together. As a sisterhood should.
Inviting other sisters. Each talking from the heart.
A sisterhood grows in strength When each sister shares a part
Of a special woman circle. Creating a strong bond.
Bringing together many. Where all become one.
© 2007 Maggie Lee Scott
