When I Am Old…

Photo from behind of a senior woman.

This lady. There are so many things that I love about this lady. She was in front of me at Costco yesterday when I was there to purchase, among other things, celebratory socks for having our Facebook page hit just over 125 Likes (and, holy cow, 24 hours later and we’re nearly at 500; that’s a lot more socks!).

Where to start? Well, first, she was at least 80 but had a pink in her cheeks that was unmistakable. Her hair was clearly a wig but coiffed just so. She was wearing navy blue shorts paired with this denim shirt with Snoopy embroidered on the back with little Woodstocks flying all around him. And pantyhose. She was wearing nude pantyhose with the shorts. And open toed sandals. And I couldn’t help by smile as she scooted along in front of me.

She is likely someone’s grandma. And, if she is, she’s someone’s mother. Probably is or was someone’s sweetheart. Definitely someone’s daughter. And as I watched her stand in line patiently ahead of me, I realized that there was a day long ago that she was likely sitting on the floor of her home, her parents in comfortable chairs nearby, while she played with her doll and they all listened to to whatever was coming from the big, beautiful Philco radio nearby. Her sandy blonde curls were her own and they wildly framed her round face and those pink cheeks.

When I am old, I hope a stranger much younger than I recognizes those types of things about me as well and smiles.

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