Perhaps the observation that someone is old should be considered a crown of glory, a thing of beauty, rather than a slight.
We are all fools, survivors, incorrigible badasses, goddesses. In the end we are an infinite army of mothers, doing the best we can.
There is time for us all then. Time to be amazing young women, time to discover, time to take chances, to write, to make art, fall in love, fall out of love, time to mother, care for someone else, find a new career, make a difference, make a mark. It is not over. It is never over.