Purple

When I am an old woman, I will wear purple everday. I will have everything in purple. My hair, my shoes, my socks, my purse, my shoelaces. Everything. Maybe I will try to make my teeth purple. Who cares? I'm old. I can do whatever I want.

At the airport, I saw a woman who was all pink. Pink sweater, pink sweat pants, pink nails, pink purse, and pink streaks in her hair. And I pictured her pink house and her pink closet and all the pink things she keeps in her house like flamingos and Valentine's day cards and lipgloss. I wondered: how many days of the week does she wear pink? One day? Two days? How many days is too many?

And it occurred to me: she's old. Who cares? She can do whatever she wants. She's earned the right to be completely ridiculous. When you're old, you only have so much time left. And that becomes real to you, I imagine. And maybe you suddenly think to yourself: I wish I had worn more pink in my life, and so, you do.

And so I'll wear purple and I'll do whatever I want when I'm old. I'll stay up all night because I'm retired and have no where to go. Maybe my husband will finally be glad we can watch late-night with Conan. Maybe I'll finally adopt a hamster, and paint random words and art on my walls like I've always wanted. It's funny how your life would change if you knew your time was limited.

Isn't everyones?