“Old and baggy," the jaded call it.
But to the innocent’s eyes,
it's soft and magic.
I remember staring at my grandmother’s hands, feeling her blue veins and soft skin.
I thought she was beautiful.
Now, as I close in on the age that she was then, I find myself staring at my own “softening” skin, loosening around the edges that I use most.
My mind momentarily has thoughts of dread and judgment of "better days."
But to a child, no such thing.
This dust and water that covers us...
To an open mind, it remains as beautiful as a snowflake,
holding the entire miracle of life in its mere being.