"You're Aging Well"

Perhaps still reeling from my 30th birthday last week, I've had another one of my favorite Dar Williams songs in my head for many days. As I've said before, her songs have a unique way of cycling through my life and popping up when I need them most. This one was a great companion this week (and the imagery in this version is inspiring for any woman of any age):



"You're Aging Well"

Why is it that as we grow older and stronger
The road signs point us adrift and make us afraid?
Saying "You never can win," "Watch your back," "Where's your husband?"
I don't like the signs that the signmakers make.

So I'm going to steal out with my paint and my brushes,
I'll change the directions, I'll hit every street,
It's the Tinseltown scandal, the Robin Hood vandal,
She goes out and steals the King's English
And in the morning you wake up and the signs point to you,

They say
"I'm so glad that you finally made it here,"
"You thought nobody cared, but I did, I could tell,"
And "This is your year," and "It always starts here,"
And oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, "You're aging well."

Now I know a woman with a collection of sticks,
She could fight back the hundreds of voices she heard
And she could poke at the greed, she could fend off her need
And at anger she found she could pound every word.

But one voice got through and caught her up by surprise
It said, "Don't hold us back, we're the story you tell,"
And no sooner than spoken, a spell had been broken
And the voices before her were trumpets and timpani
Violins, basses and woodwinds and cellos, singing,

"We're so glad that you finally made it here,
You thought nobody cared, but we did, we could tell
And now you'll dance through the days while the orchestra plays
And oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, you're aging well."

Now when I was fifteen, oh I knew it was over,
The road to enchantment was not mine to take,
'Cause lower calf, upper arm should be half what they are,
I was breaking the laws that the signmakers made.

And all I could eat was the poisonous apple
And that's not a story I was meant to survive,
I was all out of choices, but the woman of voices
She turned round the corner with music around her,
She gave me the language that keeps me alive, she said:

"I'm so glad that you finally made it here,
With the things you know now, that only time could tell,
Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are
And oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, you're aging, oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh and I am aging,
oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, aren't we aging well?"