On Maturing

I watched a cheesy Netflix rom com on Saturday night, called ‘Love at First Sight’. 

In it, two young people fall in love after meeting at an airport. 

I used to watch these movies relating to the young woman on the cusp of love.

This time though, I wasn’t intrigued by this archetype.

I’ve been there, done that.

Instead I was drawn to the mother of the young man in the couple.

She was an expressive and exuberant woman in her fifties.

Often found dressing up and acting out Shakespearean plays.

With a loving husband and two doting sons.

She was dying and in celebration of her life was throwing a memorial party.

The party was a colourful affair where her friends and family took turns to perform art as their tribute and goodbye.

I cried for the whole thing. 

I’ve read reviews of the movie online, and none of them mention the power of these scenes. So maybe you’ll watch it and feel mystified at my response.

But for me, it touched a core desire.

That of being a mature woman, vividly surrounded by loved ones, community, art, poetry and performance.

Living and dying well.