Wrinkles That Refuse to Behave

"At your age, in that dress, you look like a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting."
"Oh, how I love that royal dessert. Do you know what an elegant history it has carried through eras?"

My Thailand visit was a trip to remember. Not just because its postcard-perfect beaches and gorgeous tower karsts made me skip a heartbeat, but because something else made that very heart melt.

The place is a tourist magnet, flocked by people from all over the world. But what struck me was the sight of so many older people enjoying carefree vacations. It was a treat to watch them. They were diving into the ocean, chatting enthusiastically,
swaying to the music, sipping wine, wearing vibrant dresses, openly expressing love, and just reveling in the moment, unbothered and unworried.

Their eyes glinted. Their laughter carried across tables. Their wrinkles only knew how to frame a smile.

It was all wonderfully off-script for me, because where I come from, where I was raised, where my family gathers, old age is more delicate. It's more restrained, more rule-bound.
“This color won’t suit me anymore.”
“This dress isn’t old-age-appropriate.”
“This place is for the young.”
“You don’t act like that at this age.”
And they go on and on...

But must we really keep taming the heart just because the years pile up? Does desire expire? Do we need to shrink our lives to fit into a little box of what’s "acceptable" in specific age-brackets?

I imagine how often the heart flutters beneath all that self-editing. How painfully it must ache for the things that most obviously lit up the face.

I know mine would.

So maybe I’ll keep my restrictions limited to what’s truly unhealthy. Toxic food. Toxic people. Toxic thoughts. Toxic lifestyle.

If something delights me, despite the cookie-cutter prescriptions of old age, I’ll remind myself not to leave it untasted. And yes, with my fitness level, I may have to work out a little harder to make room for it. But that’s what will make my memories happy. That’s what will write a story I’ll be proud to carry in my heart and read over and over.

PS. I was so moved, that the first thing I did after returning home was sketch an older version of my husband and me — happy and carefree. The one up here. Just how I hope we’ll be.