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Your hands were like hers, spotted and wrinkled with age. Hands that had possibly done a lifetime's worth of honest work, held lovers, stroked a baby's newborn head. I couldn't help but look and be somehow comforted by them; hands so much like hers.
My eyes drifted to your face. I noticed you weren't wearing glasses yet you were reading the newspaper. Your mouth was relaxed; the corners turned slightly upwards as though smiling. Your eyes reflected that smile. Did I imagine a twinkle as you looked up from the paper from time to time, taking in your surroundings and the people in it? They were kind eyes; ones that reflected an inner peace.
Your skin had relaxed with age, settling into wrinkles that possibly held countless stories. I wondered what your young face had been. I'm sure it would have been beautiful and I felt glad that you seemed to be content to let age have it's way and create a new kind of beauty that time can never erase. You were dressed warmly, so much more so than me but I could tell that you had dressed with care. Perhaps a hint of your personality was revealed in the ruby red earrings that twinkled from your ears?
All too soon my tram ride was over and I disembarked, leaving you to continue your journey. Where were you going? Were you meeting with a friend? Your grown child? A grandchild? I can only wonder.
You crossed my path for ten minutes yet I have spent the morning thinking about you. We did not speak yet you seemed to tell me countless stories. You taught me the value of relaxing my face into a subtle smile and to let that smile extend to my eyes to shine out to others. You showed me that aging is nothing to be feared but something to accept with grace and love, for not all of us are gifted with longevity. The lines and wrinkles that come can hold many secrets and come almost as a reward for a life well lived.
Thank you dear lady, for all you imparted to me today. I will remember.
