In the book that is our life
where all lives intertwine
each day is written in our wrinkles…
they become our story lines.
Every person’s life is a little different
for we all have a different climb
Still…every memory we gather along the way
is a wrinkle etched in time.
So you might say our wrinkles are important…
They hold, for us, a special place…
By allowing the story of the life we are living
to be written on our face.
Deborah found the leftovers
(the ones I thought I stored in the fridge)
in a cabinet the other day
and we chuckled at my ‘senior moment’ as we threw them all away.
But it got me thinking…there was a time I remembered everything
a time when my memory was much stronger….
I knew getting old was inevitable…
I just thought it’d take a little longer.
I have forgotten where I put my glasses.
How did these keys get in this drawer?
I have forgotten, as I search for something,
what the heck I’m searching for…
But just when I begin questioning
if my memory is dwindling like a fire’s fading embers?
If at my age am I forgetting now
more things than I remember?
It is then I remember riding my bike as a child…
how Grandma’s death made me so sad…
It is then I remember splashing through puddles after a rain,
playing football with my dad.
It is then I remember friends from high school…
flying kites high in a summer breeze
It is then I remember trying to catch the falling leaves from Autumn
as they cascaded from the trees.
It is then I remember moments with our children and grandchildren…
yes, when I stop and think on it a while
there are so many moments I remember…
so many memories that make me smile.
Sure, I might forget a few things every now and then…
and sometimes the storage of leftovers is misbegotten….
but I am blessed, in life, that I remember
far more things than I’ve forgotten.
In that old photo…is that me?
I’d really like to know
I think it does resemble me
but that was long ago.
I was so young…this I avow.
Still creating my blueprints.
But I’m much older than that now…
A lot has happened since.
In that new photo…is that me?
So old…but looking gay
I’m pretty sure that man is me
at least that’s me…today
The first photo…of course that's me!
but you can barely see my joy
The second photo…also me…
and also that little boy.
I’m not sure how it came to be
I’m not sure how it can…
But on the path of destiny
that boy became that man.
The man was not part of the boy
For that is nature’s plan
But you can see it in his joy…
the boy is in the man.
Life is a series of photos
and as we live and grow
one photo is but one photo
not the entire show.
The man is 65…that’s true
The boy is 17
But the story of the two of them
lies in all the photos in between.
And though time has added a few wrinkles
that cover up my face
the boy, his joy…his twinkle
time cannot erase.
We are spending a week at a camp for adults…It’s a beautiful place to be.
Deborah’s taking Thai cooking…me….photography.
I heard a woman say this morning…it’s been a long time since they felt this good…
She though being here for a week is like reliving their childhood.
I don’t quite agree with her assessment…I think with each new sunset…each new dawn
The child we once were long ago may have changed but is never gone.
What if every day the me I am joins other past me’s in a giant reservoir?
What if we are continually synthesized into the people who we are?
In a way aren’t we constantly adding to ourselves--each day we just change the sum…
as we evolve from every person who we were, and are, into who we will become.
And although we may not ever again be that particular child...this one fact I know:
We awake each morning to embrace the wisps of that child from long ago.
Sure responsibilities and obligations may change life’s roller coaster ride
but we needn’t worry about that child...he has never left our side.
That child is still a part of Deborah…that child is still a part of me…
As she learns how to cook spicy Thai food…and I learn photography.
Yes, I’m proud to say our children never left us…and I doubt they ever would…
because for 65 years and counting now…we’ve been living our childhood.
There is a truth we don’t think about when we’re young
I guess it’s too easy to ignore…
how youth will win some early battles in life…
but age will win the war.
It’s inherent in our destiny…because every night we turn a page
and youth, felt only moments ago, cedes another day to age.
Because life is a constant struggle between age and youth…until…
age proves itself triumphant…as age forever will.
But there are moments as we grow older…we never know where or when…
That age consents to step aside and allow youth to return again…
Moments that seem to slow down in a life that can often blur…
Moments when youth revisits to remind us who we were…
Like when a Grandpa holds his grandson…even for a little while
and we see a gleam in Grandpa’s eyes and youth in Grandpa’s smile.
It’s as if in that one moment…from when that moment first began..
The youth, inherent in the child, is transmitted to the man…
Yes, if growing old is our destiny…isn’t it nice to know this truth…
That age at times can be magnanimous and cede a moment back to youth.
“Old man, what are you doing?” I asked
somewhat impetuously.
“You sit and stare out that window all day.
Tell me, what can a blind man see?”
“My eyes haven’t always been blind.” he said
“They were once as sharp as they are green...
And though it’s true they no longer function.
My mind remembers what they’ve seen.”
“Here at the window I feel the sun and the cold...
I hear the wind and the rain...
I let them stir my memories...
and it’s as if I can see again.”
“I remember seeing birds of every color,
seeing stars shoot across that sky...
seeing ladybugs land on my finger,
watching the flight of a butterfly.”
“I’ve watched the sun rise and paint the morning
I’ve seen it bid adieu
I’ve watched the leaves of an old oak tree
drip with morning dew.”
“I’ve watched a summer shower.
I’ve seen the wind blow through the trees
I’ve watched the garden flowers
be frequented by the bees.”
“What can a blind man see? you ask
Son, let me give you some advice...
One doesn’t need his eyes,” he smiled
“To look back on paradise.”
“That’s why I stare out this window all day
Even though my eyes have failed me?
Because within my mind...
inside my heart…
there’s so much I can see.”
Every stage of life is distinctive…from birth until we’re grown
Each one carries with it a beauty all its own…
But getting older is something special…
it’s like your life is one continuous song
and all the ages you’ve ever been…
are in the chorus…and sing along.
You know you’re getting older…the proof is written on your face
But then something unexpected happens that makes the years erase…
And youth begins to sing out loud…and you smile for you know
you are as young in that one moment…as you were, once, long ago…
A pair of sunglasses found in the park, left behind by a girl at play
I put them on..I sat in a swing…and the years just slipped away…
I found myself in a different time…I’m not sure where or when…
A time I was a child…on the playground once again…
I left her sunglasses in the park and as we walked away
I noticed another man put them on…then he, too, began to play.
I’m glad I happened on those sunglasses…I will always be in their debt
for reminding me no matter how old I am…there’a a lot of youth left in me yet!
“Honey!” he said carrying an old album, “let’s go back and remember when…”
She gasped to herself as he opened it, “I was so much younger then.
“Look how beautiful I used to be…and I’d sure like to know”
“As I’ve gotten older…where did my beauty go?”
“Oh I beg differ.” He smiled. “For this beauty you’re talking about
has never shown from outward in…it flows from inward out.”
“The same beauty I see in these old photos, still fills my heart with sighs…
It radiates from your heart…your soul…it’s reflected in your eyes.”
“What makes you beautiful today is something time cannot destroy…
It’s how you live each moment…It’s the way you fill your life with joy. “
“I think beauty is like the seasons and it’s not until we’re fully grown
that we realize each season of life…has a beauty all it’s own.”
“It’s true you’re not as beautiful as in this photograph array…
that would be impossible…because you become more beautiful every day.”
“So as we turn these pages…as we stop along the way…
Remember you were only younger then…you‘re much more beautiful today.”
She climbed into the cab of a backhoe…you wouldn’t know she was 64.
Because there are times and places and moments…
age doesn’t matter anymore.
She has a friend, she’s had forever, who’s off in Switzerland…on a cruise.
Who seemed to get just as excited…over a pair of vegan shoes.
Still another friend they’ve shared since the time they all were three…
gets that same expression every time she hugs a tree.
As I watched her yesterday…I was immediately stung…
by how our bodies may get older…but it’s our hearts that keep us young…
And I made this revelation …that for all…should be foretold:
If you can stay excited over little things…you never will grow old!
If walking on a starlit night sometimes make you cry.
If you can stop whatever your doing…just to watch a butterfly.
If you still skip stones whenever you come across a river or a lake.
If you stick out your tongue in winter…to catch a cascading snowflake.
If the aroma of chocolate chip cookies makes you want to linger for awhile…
If listening to a chorus of birds…can still cause you to smile…
Perhaps we are like those trees her friend hugs…
our outside ages…yet deceives…
For inside we are constantly renewing…
and everyday we grow new leaves…
New leaves that get excited over backhoes…
over vegan shoes and hugging trees…
New leaves that will keep us forever young
until there’s nothing more to see.