I am looking forward to growing old. Very, very old. I would love to see how the little hair I have left turns white. I think it will complement my skin tone and my eyes. I want to look like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. I wonder if my hands will look like my Basque grandfather ancient hands; brittle and spotted; gentle and warm. I hope I get lots of wrinkles, seriously. You see I love maps and I would like to wear one in my face. Imagine a continent full of bays and peninsulas drawn in your forehead, just gorgeous. By then I would have accumulated hundreds upon hundreds of personal anecdotes. I will soon become a great conversationalist. And I will not be agitated or mortified by hasty people or desperate circumstances because I will be totally convinced that Love conquers all. I think of old age as an elegant waltz full of joy and enchantment.
I have been always fascinated by old people. They are walking encyclopedias of the human experience. Being surrounded my old people enriches my life. I am deeply grateful for them.
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