CREATIVE NONFICTION
MARGIE PATLAK
WOMAN OF A CERTAIN AGE
She is a woman of a certain age. Gray hair. Paunch no longer mistaken for pregnancy. Comfortable shoes. A chin with an echo of itself.
A woman no one notices.
What a relief! Relief from sexual predation, the downward male gaze when cleavage surfaces, the unwanted come-ons, the inability of men to see beyond the shell of her body, the veneer of her face, to penetrate the lovely contours of her convoluted brain and not just what lies below. Relief from feeding, bathing, and putting squalling children down for naps. No longer is she homework helpmate, chauffeur, macaroni-and-cheese chef, laundress, King-Solomon-judge of sibling disputes. Relief from the strain of bending to a boss’s whims, the stress and now physical impossibility of chaining herself to a chair all day, day after day, meeting one deadline after another.
Yes, for the first time in her life, she does what she wants. Thinks her own thoughts. Fills in deliciously empty hours unimpeded by the expectations of others. After 60 years catering to the demands of school, workplace, family, molded by a hidden societal sculptor continually chiseling off critical pieces, she finally is fully herself. A woman of a certain age, certain of who she is and what she wants, loving what she has become. A woman with a more lighthearted perspective only time could bring. A woman with deeper insights rendered by experience. A woman with the buttery smooth confidence churned by met challenges. A woman with the beauty of a life deeply lived etched into the lines of her visage.
If only someone would notice.
A woman no one notices.
What a relief! Relief from sexual predation, the downward male gaze when cleavage surfaces, the unwanted come-ons, the inability of men to see beyond the shell of her body, the veneer of her face, to penetrate the lovely contours of her convoluted brain and not just what lies below. Relief from feeding, bathing, and putting squalling children down for naps. No longer is she homework helpmate, chauffeur, macaroni-and-cheese chef, laundress, King-Solomon-judge of sibling disputes. Relief from the strain of bending to a boss’s whims, the stress and now physical impossibility of chaining herself to a chair all day, day after day, meeting one deadline after another.
Yes, for the first time in her life, she does what she wants. Thinks her own thoughts. Fills in deliciously empty hours unimpeded by the expectations of others. After 60 years catering to the demands of school, workplace, family, molded by a hidden societal sculptor continually chiseling off critical pieces, she finally is fully herself. A woman of a certain age, certain of who she is and what she wants, loving what she has become. A woman with a more lighthearted perspective only time could bring. A woman with deeper insights rendered by experience. A woman with the buttery smooth confidence churned by met challenges. A woman with the beauty of a life deeply lived etched into the lines of her visage.
If only someone would notice.
Margie Patlak’s creative nonfiction has been published in Hippocampus, The Hopper, Cold Mountain Review, Broad Street, Persimmon Tree, and JuxtaProse, where her “Rock of Ages” won First Honorable Mention in its 2018 Creative Nonfiction contest. Her flash essay “The River” was published and nominated for a Pushcart Prize by The Midnight Oil. Her memoir More Than Meets the Eye: Exploring Nature and Loss on the Coast of Maine was published by Down East Books/Rowman and Littlefield in 2021 and awarded "Outstanding Book" by the American Society of Journalists and Authors in 2022.
