Last week, I saved some peonies from the bin. I nearly never buy flowers but I was willing to part with £2 for them to stop their otherwise putrid fate. I took them home and stuck them in an empty candle jar. Together my mother-in-law and I watched them open, bloom and then pale into gossamer ghosts of themselves. All the while their petals didn’t shed and their beauty prevailed.
Perhaps it is because I was nearing my birthday or, perhaps I have found new insight. Either way, their seemed to become a metaphor for the way that women age.
We are all of us beautiful in our own ways and age cannot ruin our beauty. We just shine in different ways as we mature.
I hear a lot of bloggers complain about advancing in age and with each blithe comment, I feel evermore disheartened. Aging is not an illness. We are lucky that we have the privilege to do so as so many do not. Furthermore, regardless of what the media will poison our frailty with……Beauty does not exclusively reside in youth. It is in fact, ageless.