By Cindy Ray
Back in my misspent youth I took up the pass-time of counted cross stitch. I think I was trying to find a hobby – something to pass the time that wouldn’t require my friends to post bail. For those of you not familiar with the art, it is a type of embroidery in which X-shaped stitches are sewn into a piece of fabric with colored thread resulting in an image.
It is, in fact, quite tedious. Nevertheless, I pursued the hobby with a laser-like focus. I cross stitched ornaments, dish towels, pillowcases and a myriad of images depicting musical instruments and woodland creatures.
I also produced a few pieces featuring poems. Most of my creations became birthday, Christmas, wedding and even baby shower gifts for friends and family.
There was one piece, however, that never made it to its intended recipient. Alas, it took quite longer to complete than I expected and it ended up languishing behind my dresser for years (and years and years) Occasionally I would take it out – probably during a Spring cleaning frenzy – and I would re-read the poem.
Yesterday, I was reminded of the message of the poem during a conversation with a friend. So, I share it here. This is for you, Dawn.
Warning
By Jenny Joseph
(May 7, 1932 – January 8, 2018)
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.