The Horizon Of Old Age

I was shopping for groceries when I turned around and noticed an old lady walking down the lane. Life seemed to pass by as my gaze moved with her steps. She stopped to speak to another lady and the wrinkles on her face lit up. Each wrinkle had an experience to share like a page from the narrative of her life. Her words were soft from the calmness of the years that she had spent struggling to survive in this world. There was poetry emanating from the crevices of her wrinkles. I could see her eyes holding back the turmoils of her life. There must have been periods of happiness and bouts of depression, joys of pleasant news and tears from tragedies, that had now taken the shape of wrinkles on her face to define her life. Her trembling hands were speaking her history. I could see my face in times to come, a reflection of my life that would turn around with folds of wrinkles. Life repeats for all of us and I could see mine in her wrinkles.