Moving over

Last night I had three friends (they didn't all know one another well) over for vegetable ragout, apple brown betty, wine and chat. Our agenda item was talking about setting up a consulting biz. It was my notion to bring us together, but we all had varying degrees of interest. All of us, to one extent or another, had been successful in our fields-all of us weren't sure where we wanted to go next.

And, I must confess, we only spent about 20 minutes talking about the business end of things-the rest of the evening was spent talking about dating, children, how great it was to sleep alone and not have to make beds when we could, biking and one (yes, we only analyzed one) woman not at the table with us.

But when we did talk about the possibility of doing consulting, one theme emerged-helping other women. We all seemed to want to help others succeed, inspire them and give back.

I guess that's our time of life-and the idea, perhaps inbred in us, that there is a time when its right to take a supporting role. I still have dreams, goals, ambitions. I'm not sure which ones I'll achieve. I'm not even sure that's it's important to be "successful" at all of them. I struggle to understand what it means to step to the sidelines-or at least stage left.

As daunting as this is, however, there is one great benefit-the company of women like the three who came over last night-my friends, my colleagues, my own mentors. After all, being middle-aged doesn't mean you can't become more mature, does it?