What am I about?
I often wonder?

am I more then a mother?
a wife?
a laborer?

am I a woman with substance, or just a woman who let’s life pass her by.
I write as ramblings of a middle age woman.
I’m 46.

am I middle aged?
does a woman of sixty think of me as middle aged?
or am I still considered a young woman to her?

To a girl of twenty, I am probably over the hill.
I say a girl of twenty because at twenty one can’t possibly be a woman.
She hasn’t lived long enough, experienced life’s ups and downs to be qualified as a woman.
My mother once said a girl isn’t a woman at least until she is twenty five.
I would say a girl isn’t a woman unless she has lived a life full of happiness, anxiety, bitter heart break and has at least one child.
but that is just me.
And as we all know, I am just a middle aged woman.