What do you see, nurses, what do you see? Are you thinking when you are looking at me a crabbed old woman, not very wise uncertain of habit, with far away 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 unresisting 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 use at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I’m a small child of 10 with a father and mother, brothers and sisters who love one another. A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet, a bride soon at 20 – my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep. At 25 now I have young of my own, who need me to build a secure, happy, home. A woman of 30, my young now grow fast, bound to each other with ties that should last. At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn. At 50, 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 the own, and I think of the years and the love that I’ve known. I’m and old woman now and nature is cruel. “Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.”
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart. There is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I’m loving and living life over again. I think of the years all too few, gone to fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, nurses, open and see not a crabbed old woman, look closer- see me.

-anonymous