Thursday, September 16, 2010

A Wrinkle in Thyme

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Please don't retouch my wrinkles. It took me so long to earn them.
~Anna Magnani

While shopping in the produce section last week, my 11 year old son N whispered to me, "Did you see her?  She's really old!" 

I followed his (thankfully) discreet nod to a woman easily in her late 90's.  Her stooped spine and hunched shoulders carried a shawl over a long dark dress as she shuffled along in her practical black shoes.  She wore a babushka over wisps of thin white hair, her sunken face corrugated with deep ridges of her life's canvas.  An artist's dream. 

I smiled and explained how special it was to see her out and about, still shopping and getting around at her age. 

A few minutes later he told me, "B's Grandma is really old like that, too.  You should see her!" 

"Oh, I didn't realize she was that old," I wondered, haven't met her yet.

"Yeah, she is," he mused, "Well...I think maybe a month younger."

Love it!

Also last week while waiting for the schoolbus, G was wondering out loud if there would be a birthday celebration at school that day.  I quizzed him on the ages of his friends and family, some right, some wrong.  When I asked him how old I am, "He immediately responded, "5!"  (like duh, Mom!) 

I'm going to count that as an excellent sign that he considers me his peer, since we're working on Play Project, SonRise-inspired techniques.  lol

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
~William Shakespeare