Old age is a beautiful thing.
When I was young, in my early age and in my teen years, in my mind’s eye I always witnessed my future as on old lady. My thoughts revert to dreaming of plans for retirement and my 60’s. Dreaming of sitting on porches, the two of us ladies singing songs together. Dreams of travel with my love and all his future plans. Dreams of dinner parties, books, adult children and baby grand children.
Growing up my grandmother was always a major source of beauty for me. I can
remember so clearly.. We would skinny dip nightly. Her in her nighty and all us grand children nude, splashing around in the warm evening air while she lapped back and forth doing a leisurely Breast stroke. On occasion we would walk two blocks to the lake but most of the time it was too cold. Afterwards she would shower and I, while all the other children were being tucked in, would read on her bed. She would come into the room and sit down at her dressing table, the one now sitting in my room, that my grandpa had built for her. She would use all her European luxury creams starting with her face, then her legs and arms. the most distinctly floral smelling skin softening powder would be patted all over her self.
She would say “beauty always starts with your skin, but you never want to cover it up too much”. I can still remember that smell. Then she would use some one my arms and legs, while we would discuss books and magic and all sorts of worldly things a child dreams about.