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A number of years ago a woman living in a nursing home in Scotland wrote the following little piece that wasn’t found until after her death. However, it demonstrated the reality that life flies by even if you live to a ripe old age. I think you will be touched as I was. It’s entitled, "Crabby Old Woman."

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?

What are you thinking When you’re looking at me?

A crabby old woman, Not very wise,

Uncertain of habit, With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food And makes no reply

When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you’d try!"

Who seems not to notice The things that you do,

And forever is losing A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not, Lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding, The long day to fill?

Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse, You’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, As I eat at your will.

I’m a small child of ten With a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters, Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen With wings on her feet

Dreaming that soon now A lover she’ll meet.

A bride soon at twenty, My heart gives a leap,

Remembering the vows That I promised to keep

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,

Who need me to guide And a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty, My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons Have grown and are gone,

But my man’s beside me To see I don’t mourn.

At fifty once more, Babies play round my knee,

Again we know children, My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, My husband is dead,

I look at the future, I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing Young of their own,

And I think of the years...

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