A Wrinkle in Time

Moving on from our less-wrinkled lives.

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.”

— Andy Rooney

The beautiful people.

We were young and vibrant in our teens. Some were more vibrant than others. There were the good-looking ones who adorned the pages of yearbooks and turned heads as they walked down the hallways.

There is a power in aesthetic beauty. Girls and boys alike are a bit dumber when they are around someone attractive. Boys, in particular, can be ridiculous as we followed around the girl we were infatuated with, compromising our time to help them with their homework.

It is a clumsy dance being a teen.

But time passes.

Beauty fades.

Tucks and Dyes

I find few things more sad than watching people struggle against the aging process.

I’m not talking about complaining that it is a little harder to get out of bed or that our bodies are a bit stiffer following a day of activity. Getting old is a reality, and there are shared experiences.

But some people refuse to accept that their body is aging. At the onset of the first gray hair, dye appears. At the appearance of the first crow’s feet, some seek surgery to smooth the skin.

Sagging breasts get a lift, aging faces get botoxed.

We adorn our social media with filtered photos as we use digital touchups to improve our appearance. And now we hear more and more of the tragedies of people who have so deformed their faces and bodies to hold onto their youth that they have turned themselves into monsters.

There may be a time when the dyes and tucks protected our image. But then comes a time when the battle is lost. And sadly, we are all aware and see the person struggling to maintain their appearance.

Why do we fight the inevitable?

The Last Lap

We should not be hiding our wrinkles.

Anyone with wrinkles has made it to a beautiful time of life. We have seen more than the less-wrinkled, experienced life. Each wrinkle tells a story of love and loss, success and frustration.

The wrinkles in the corner of my eyes remind me of all the laughter and smiles in my life. They bring me back to a time with my high school friends as we bent over laughing at a joke.

Some of my wrinkles are from smiling at my children as I watched them grow. Some are from the tears and crying as my brother passed away.

Yes, I wish my body could stay young for much longer. How it fares is much up to me and how I treat it. But someday, I won’t be able to swim a lap in my pool anymore. That makes me sad.

But even with the best care, age will come.

Rings on a Tree

Our physical societally-defined beauty will fade away. This process began a long time ago.

At the same time, our true beauty shines.

We peak physically in our late teens and early twenties. From an anatomical point of view, it is downhill from there. And there is nothing we can do about it.

We blossom as we age. With age comes wisdom and experience. I roll my eyes when I consider some of the things I worried about when I was younger. At the time, they were important. But they are no longer.

As trees grow older they develop deep lines and ridges. We honor the beauty of the hundred-year-old tree but frown at our own rough bark.

We run our fingers over the age rings of a cut tree, admiring its longevity. Yet we shy away from embracing our birthdays as each year passes.

Being young is wonderful.

And coming of age is magnificent.

Each is equally beautiful.

Here are more of my stories for reflection and discussion.

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