I am Vintage!

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sports car

Taking the bus yesterday due to an elasticated knee support and bandaged wrist I actually felt a little more like “the mummy” at least on my left side. Then a cute, little, vintage sports car passed by on the other side, canvas roof back, the owners proudly beaming. I thought, “They must have paid a lot of money for that and take real good care of it.”

Then it occurred to me maybe I should think of myself more like that car, that age can mean special! I thought of my granddaughter plying me for stories for her history blog, the old lady I’d met earlier who told me fascinating facts about the conservative little town where I live – that 50 years ago there’d been 42 pubs (if you saw how small my town is you would have been likewise astounded!) I remembered China where the older folks are venerated for their wisdom etc. (I quite enjoyed that lol!)

I realised perhaps I should substitute words like old, decrepit, ancient, with antique, vintage, and valuable. Sure the car took extra care, probably required quality fuel and frequent overhauls, but it seemed to run quite smoothly (as my body usually does) and was far more interesting than the newer models. So from now on I’m going to apply the word “vintage” to myself and forget those other more depressing labels.

Beautiful life.

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petals

Sunlight glistened on the petals, once her skin had been soft like that, now it was mottled with brown, wrinkled, old. Work had roughened her fingers as care had worn grooves in the once pristine brow.

She chuckled to herself remembering summer days, moonlit nights, of long ago. The years had taken their toll on her; she’d paid the annual tithes of age, now her account was all but empty, little remained of strength or beauty. Yet as age took its yearly toll something had been added, a divine sweetness, long brewed it her heart, burst forth in song as a rare and precious vintage. As flesh slowly withered youth returned, eternal within, a song of love ever new growing in potency.

The hands folded in prayer as she walked amidst the flower gardens wondering at their beauty.

“Mother Teresa!” a young voice sounded, face alight with joy. Bending to embrace the running child ancient arms embraced the future.