Recently, while traveling on a flight to Chicago, a young woman in her twenties addressed me as “Ma’am.” I was en route to a reunion with a cherished group of women, who had humorously labeled themselves the “Wise Women” during our graduate school days, when most of us were far from fitting that description. Back then, I was one of the older students in my program, though merely in my thirties. No one referred to me as “Ma’am” at that time.
However, on this flight, a bright-eyed young woman with smooth skin and an air of youthful confidence saw fit to use that term for me. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” she said, as she maneuvered past me to her window seat, treating me as if I were a delicate relic from a bygone era. It was a reminder that I belonged to a different generation, one that she perceived as older.
At our reunion, I chuckled about the incident and shared it on social media. How amusing that I, of all people, was referred to as “ma’am.” But beneath the humor lay an unsettling truth. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—my face marked by the passage of time—I struggled with the disconnect between my self-image and reality. In my mind, I still felt youthful, vibrant, and full of potential.
During my time in graduate school, I often felt older than my peers, many of whom had just graduated college. They were embarking on their journeys as writers, while I was pursuing a path that had emerged later in life, after recognizing that my previous career in entertainment law was not my true calling.
The “Wise Women” formed during my second year, and though I was somewhat of an outsider due to my frequent travels, I found a sense of belonging among them. Our experiences as former professionals—from journalists to consultants—brought us together in a unique way. We were not dowagers merely by age, but by the richness of our life experiences.
Years later, at our Chicago reunion, we found ourselves a bit closer to that label. Our hair had grayed, and our faces bore the marks of time. Yet, despite the challenges we faced as writers, wives, and mothers, the essence of each woman radiated with unchanged brilliance.
The term “ma’am” continues to echo in my mind, especially during restless nights. While I embrace the wisdom and freedom that come with age, the insecurities of youth linger. The desire for validation, the need for parental guidance, and the quest for self-acceptance remain ingrained within me.
Reflecting on our reunion, I remember the light-hearted moments we shared—discussing parenting, love, and career aspirations while also indulging in laughter and nostalgia. We reveled in the youthful exuberance of films like Magic Mike XXL, yet we were acutely aware of the messages we wished to convey to our sons about respect and boundaries.
Ultimately, the complexities of youth and age coexist within us, shaping who we are today. Embracing the totality of our experiences may be one of the greatest gifts of maturity, allowing us to navigate the intricacies of life more fully.
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In summary, the journey of growing older is intertwined with our youthful selves, and by accepting all facets of our experiences, we can better appreciate the richness of our lives.