Women become invisible as they age

When I heard Pink Floyd playing in a nursing home, I realized the soundtrack had changed—and so had my place between my students and the residents. The work hasn’t changed. The people haven’t changed. Only the generations have.

“This is my mother’s arm, I thought, staring at the torn skin on the side of the road. Except it was me. And in that moment, I realized my body had crossed into a different stage of life—without warning.”

On formal night aboard a cruise ship, everyone dressed up. I dressed down—and discovered the unexpected freedom of being invisible.