Isn't it grand to grow old?

A friend of mine whom I haven't seen in years stopped by the shop the other day. It was so wonderful to see a familiar, wonderful person with whom I had once shared so many pleasant memories in the past -- my wedding, the birth of my first child, and just plain old girlfriend moments that mean so much in that instant but that you can't quite recall years later except to say that they were great. She walked in and said, "Is this the Karina Gentinetta I know? Is this all you????" Of course, she knew me as the practicing, mad lawyer that I was and I guess, not having seen me in years, the jump to this is quite striking to a lot of people who knew me as I was.


After exchanging all the recent (or maybe not so recent) news of children, husbands and lives, I just told her how absolutely stunning she looked (and she did). She was radiant! And she said the same about me (which, of course, I don't feel at all) and after vehemently denying any glamour on my side, I told her how I was turning 42 this Saturday (the one that just passed). She said, "Oh, isn't it grand to grow old?" My brain went into instant replay. Wait -- say that again????? Old? Wonderful? Are you freaking mad??????? Did you just hear what I said, woman? I'm going to be 42! 42! Did you hear what I said?


But she did and she said the same thing, "I know. Don't you love it?"


I went home that evening and thought about that all night and the next morning. Either she was nuts afterall or there was really something to what she said. After I thought about it, I started embracing that concept. -- Isn't it grand to grow old? And I went through my day like any other day. I saw photos which my friend Claudia is tormenting with daily regarding her flea market trip to Paris. :) The treasures, the relics, the finds that line up the streets in Paris! These things are divine! They are old and age has perfected them. They carry the patina and crusty paint of years of enjoyment.





Am I crazy or aren't these chairs, oozing with age, just simply gorgeous???? (photos courtesy of Claudia Strasser).

And these Italian sconces with their original crystals and gilded patina.

And this 19th c. Spanish 5 arm tole sconce?????

Or this chippy Italian desk that has layers and layers of leftover paint and lots of stories to tell.

And somewhere between all of this revelation while I was at the shop, I got one of those video messages from my husband. I opened it up and on my phone screen was my 6 year old son, Liam. He was showing me how he lost his tooth just a few minutes before. His very first tooth!!!! My little boy!!! And my first impulse was to cry. Not only am I old but my son is not a baby anymore!!!!!!

But rather than to give in to the impulse and start crying, I stopped myself and thought of what had just happened. My son had lost his very first tooth. His very first tooth. And he was happy. He couldn't wait to show me. And wasn't that grand? This was an occasion to celebrate, not cry.

And so with that, I became a year older and a year wiser.

Yes, Elizabeth, you were so right. It is grand to grow old afterall.