The Map Of My Journey

I don't understand people who dread the thought of ageing. Much better to think of it as maturing, a constant process of improvement. I'm reminded of Winston, in Orwell's 1984, wondering why we prefer the bud to the flower where human bodies are concerned.

My face is beginning to show the first, almost imperceptible, signs of the inevitable middle-aged sag and I'm happy, I like the lived-in look. It's a reminder to continue living life to the full. I couldn't contemplate going under the knife to erase my wrinkles, it would be like wiping out a part of my past.

I have more scars than maybe I should, but those wounds taught me caution, patience and courage. These lines around my eyes? I love 'em all. They came from uncontrollable laughter, squinting in the sunshine, intense concentration and drunken, smoky, late nights with friends.

As I grow older, my skin will slowly acquire the texture and colour of parchment, the better to document my life. Its pits, crevices and tracks will record the map of my journey so far and as I move forward, any path will be the right one.

Posted by Hg on Friday 08 February 2002 at 08:04.
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