An Old Woman And Her Zap Bicycle

Yesterday morning Elsie died.  True, she was 97 and had lived many years of a hedonistic life that seems to have ended just how she would have planned for it, if she could tell us her story.

Elsie was a curmudgeon to some, willful, proud and suffering no fools in life.  She was a Vassar graduate and a nudist in her early adulthood.  Actually, that nudist thing was more of who she was to the very end.  A great story goes around about Elsie answering the door for the cable guy in the buff.  I would think that he was surprised by that and especially because she was in her late years by then. Makes me smile thinking about it.

While I toiled as a Gardener where Elsie lived, I would see her from time to time on her Zap bike.  One sunny day while I pruned roses, I heard a strange noise coming down the walkway.  There, scooting along at a higher rate of speed than safe was Elsie.  Good thing no other elderly residents were strolling on the sidewalk because Elsie did not stop for other people. It made me grin to see her speed by.  How could I not?

Another day, while I worked on the tree rings in the green outside of her apartment, she came to sit in the covered swing, in the sun.  She fell fast asleep with her mouth open and I checked to watch her chest rise and fall.  She appeared very peaceful and yet, to me, I saw the deep loneliness of a woman who has lived her life fulfilling her own desires and not much concerned with the feelings of others.  Elsie was often abrupt though I admired her directness.  She was not codependent and that is an immense freedom to me. Both edges of a very strong saber.

Elsie was known to ride her Zap bike over to Oliver's Market for groceries and a double latte-something she loved.  She was 97 and so that is pretty damn amazing.  I keep that memory of her, jetting by, to bolster my sadness at her death.  However, I understand that the day before she died, Elsie had color in her cheeks and was on an adventure, on her Zap bike, for the perfect double latte.

I hope that I have the tenacity and fearlessness late in life that Elsie seemed to have right up to her take off. Ride on Elsie, ride on!