This I Believe.

This I Believe Final Draft (565 Words)

Admit it, you thought thirty was old. I know I did. Now look at us, growing fast, the years floating by with the wind. All of a sudden, thirty doesn’t seem so old. Constantly you hear people complaining about a grey hair, a stretch mark, a wrinkle or a scare. Everyone seems worried about what comes with the aesthetics of getting old. But let me ask you this, why? Take a look at your body, what has it gotten you through? What stories can you see written all over it? Everything that you may think is an ugly part of aging, it absolutely beautiful to me.  

I can see the wrinkles forming in the corners of my eyes. It reminds me of my grandfather. His wrinkly face, smiling as I walk through the door, always happy to see me. You could say he is weathered, or seasoned but honestly, I think he is just perfect. He has experienced so much in his life of eighty-one years. Everything from a near death car crash, beating cancer, getting to meet his great-grandchildren and teaching his son-in-law the ways of reading the land. As he gets older, he spends time reminiscing, telling us stories from his youth. He would finish every story by saying “you know, you get to live a lot of life when you get to be as old as I am.” I’ve let that sit with me for years now and realize it couldn’t be truer. With that aging and weathering of his skin came memories and experiences that I only wish to experience one day. 

Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think of my Nana and I can’t help but smile. I remember the mornings I would be waiting for her as she would plant herself in the mirror. Her night gown hanging off her fragile body, hair wrapped in a silk towel, shaky hands, and her cracked feet holding herself planted in place. She was determined she was not leaving the house until she got every last whisker. Other than her fear of looking “old”, she was a pretty fearless lady back in her day. From being part of the “Powder Puff’s” car derby’s and a flirt with the boys to raising three children and always willing to speak her mind. She would pluck away until her face was bright red, then she would look at me. I’d giggle at her puffy chin and tell her she was gorgeous, with or without whiskers. I meant it with all of my heart because I could see behind a few misplaced hairs to the lovely lady she was. I will admit, I do not want hair growing on my chin, like it has on every elder woman in my family, but if a little extra facial hair is all I have to worry about at her age, I’ll take it.

So next time you see an elderly struggling to open the door or shuffling along in the grocery store, take a look at their bodies and faces, what stories are they telling you? Take the moment to help them out or compliment them. One day, if you’re lucky you will be in their shoes, just waiting, hoping for someone to sit and listen to your stories and advice. Getting old is a beautiful thing, even with all the wrinkles that come with it.