I saw beauty

"You can take no credit for your beauty at sixteen. But if you are beautiful at sixty, it will be your soul's d0ing." - Marie Stopes

This weekend we celebrated my grand-aunt's 90th birthday. Dressed in regracefullyull in low heels, she flitted from grandchildren to church friends to card-playing buddies. She seemed always on the verge of uproarious laughter, no matter at whom her brown eyes sparkled. I sat watching from a table decorated in pink and blue and yellow balloons (just as fitting for nine as 90). She must have forgotten all about birthdays after the age of 35, she just decided to stay young.

Aunt Wilma. Singer of high school operettas, master of the church organ, widowed these ten years. And one mean birthday party hostess.

That night, more partying for me and Mom as we go to her High School Alumni Banquet. We don't even make it in the doors before someone is calling her name and hugging on her. And I watch very closely this woman that I have held myself up to for as long as I can remember, as she interacts with the people from the era of her life I most dreamed about. [There was just something magical to the little girl I was, sitting next Mom on her bed, opening jewelrey box that smelled like time erased, going through the old 4-H and honor society pins, hearing the stories of girlfriends and senior trips and proms.] As she talks to friends not seen in 10, 20, 30 years, she is that farm girl again. And she is stunning.

These women of my family, their beauty, feed my soul.