I was visiting the home of a new friend. On the mantle was a kind of tryptich of three young ladies, his granddaughters. They looked like three up and coming young film stars.
The phone rang. Could they come over? Of course. And soon they came bursting through the door.
It was a chilly but sunny day. They were wearing colorful tops and modish "pre-stressed" jeans. Each wore a man's hat--two fedoras, and the youngest had on a tilted derby. Their knees were coming through their jeans. The look was "in", and so were they.
Why do I talk and write about them? Because instead of the sullen or embarrassed young people I have become used to, these young ladies were enjoying the company of us old folks. They had been out walking and decided to drop in.
They unconciously struck poses as they talked, as if they were in a high school play. Not vain, just having fun.
The youngest put her derby on me. "You look good in it," she said. She was right. I am at that stage of life when the more you cover me up the better I look. I said nothing, but I couldn't stop smiling.
They spent a little time with us then had to leave. They had so much life to live and I'm sure the days were not long enough to contain it.
Sure, I was happy over their visit, but I felt sad too. I realize that they are from an ancient race that is not exactly famous for producing old maids. Soon they will have a list of suitors to choose from. The oldest, at 16, already had a boy friend. Sooner than they know they will be wives and mothers--super ones. It was hard to see anything but happiness ahead for them.
Thank you ladies for your visit. Thank you for putting your hat on me and for your compliment. You will be this young for such a short time. Yes you are dashing, and dashing through life.