My sister texted this photograph to me yesterday. That’s her on her wedding day and me peering through the screen door. I think it got both of us thinking about the passage of time.
Which turned my thought to both buildings and people.
A foundation is poured, walls are built, fresh paint is applied.
In youth our skin is taut, supple and untouched by the years.
But time intervenes and both new buildings and our bodies become canvases painted by time.
New textures emerge, brought on by use. All of nature’s elements leave their marks on man-made structures; joy, worry, laughter, tears and the simple passing of years leave marks on us.
There’s beauty in the passing of time and stories to be learned, both from old buildings and old people. Each rusted part, each wrinkle, tells a story.
I’ve not come to terms quite yet with the graying of my hair and often add a fresh “coat of paint” to try to keep it at bay but as far as my wrinkles are concerned, I think I’ve earned them and have lately come to feel an acceptance of the beautiful patina and textures that time leaves behind.
Aging gracefully might come to be a learned thing.