People, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty -
they merely move it from their faces into their hearts.
At the end of a particularly touching birth, I watched as a first time Grandmother trembled as she held her newborn grandson.....weathered, wrinkled hand holding chubby pink fingers....and wished for my camera! A very simple joy I'm allowed to participate in, day after day...and the thrill remains! A simple joy that now, after 35 years....still brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. A simple joy that reminds me....no matter how old I get.....that the beauty of life is often best found in the heart....and not on the face of life. In the fall of my life, I find myself wishing I'd thanked my mentors that walked these slow steps before me.....respected them a little more....appreciated their knowledge and patience...and sometimes pain that it took to make their walk through my life each day. Though my steps are slower, my hair is gray..my body is rounder....I wear my wrinkles proudly.....medals of courage through my walk on the journey of life. Like this vintage old pot that now sits in my garden, I can remember back to when life was different...my path, like the path of Grandmas teapot....has changed, and me with it. Like my handed down teapot, I've become etched with experience .....but remain determined to stand proud...to come back day after day..to wear my age proudly ....remembering that the best tunes in life are often played on an old guitar!