Crone

I'll get to that later but there is a point. As I was walking to the farmers' market this morning I passed by a large number of very young women, most likely new minted freshmen, rushing various sororities lining my route. I was overwhelmed by the hormonalosity of the throngs and thought to myself how glad I am that those days have passed and I have become a crone. Let us resurrect the crone from the language graveyard from which it has lay in repose lo these many years. Let us resurrect it to a proper place and meaning, that being, a passage into wisdom, freedom and personal power. Let's get all Feminist. Look at all the handsome women of a certain age. Full of wisdom and and a passion for life. Let us celebrate our age, beauty and most important our collective wisdom. I am proud to be a Crone. So here I sit in my comfy living room dispensing wisdom to the world, such as it is. Say it loud, I am old and proud. I owe this realization to a precursor to the lovely Hyphen, a therapist who saved me from my crazy self and brought me into the sanitized light of my well being. Let's just call her androgynously Pat. I hope she is still out there, retired in her own Crone dome, enjoying her fruits of her labors. There for the grace of Pat did it not descend into a permanent crazy land of youth. I have emerged as a Crone. Life is good, even as we have grown older, yes, and wiser, and yes, closer to the end of days. It all come down to that.