A fifty-six-year-old woman found herself growing older. There was nothing surprising in thisit was the natural course of life. Her time had come.
But the woman was distressed each time she saw her reflection. The changes seemed to happen almost overnight, as if, day by day, someone was taking away her youth and beauty, painting on the lines of age.
Not so long ago, she had looked wonderful. There was an elderly gentleman who always sat on the bench in the square whatever the weather, who never failed to pay her a compliment: How well you look! What a lovely lady you are!
She would pass by this frail gentleman, and he would tip his hatsometimes a tweed cap, sometimes a woollen flat capand repeat his familiar refrain: What a lovely lady you are!
It always made her smile as she hurried on to work, and she went about her day with a lightness in her step, gathering little compliments from others as the hours passed. The truth was, she really did look splendid.
Then, one morning, she realised that she hadnt seen the old gentleman in quite some time. The bench in the square was empty. When she asked her neighbours what had happened, they told her hed been taken to a care home. He was now ninety, needed looking after, and his family lived in other cities, unable to visit or provide daily care.
With her thoughts distracted from ageing, she found herself thinking about the old man, whose name, she now learned, was Bernard Ashcroft. She found out the address of the home, bought a tin of ginger biscuits and a warm scarf, and visited him one Sunday afternoon.
There he was, sitting in an armchair by the window, happily tucking into a bowl of porridge with a knob of butter melting on top. As soon as he saw her, he broke into a joyful smile and said, Oh, how lovely to see you! You look wonderful! What a lovely lady you are!
Other residents wandered over, smiling and offering kind words. They praised her, delighted by her visit. Later, as she looked in the mirror at home, her cheeks seemed rosy, her eyes were bright, her hair seemed to curl with a new bounce, and the lines on her face had softened. She was surpriseda woman who looked younger than her years, pleasant and full of life. Somehow, youth and beauty had returned in the most unexpected way.
It was a small miracle. The woman began visiting the care home every Sunday, helping out, running music and dance afternoons for the old folksshed once taught dancing, after all. Not in the hope of regaining her youth, but simply because it made her feel warm inside to bring joy to others. It felt wonderful to know you could be like a daughter or granddaughter to someone, and to receive their gentle kindness in return. And time after time, they would smile at her and say, You look wonderful!from the bottom of their hearts.
We are often reflected in those around usnot in any ordinary way, but almost magically. Some people bring out your best: you straighten your back, walk lighter, your eyes sparkle, your lips curve into an easy smile. Others, sadly, can make you feel hunched and weary.
Thats why we should treasure these magic mirrorsthe kind-hearted souls who speak sincerely and build us up. And we must care for the elderly. As long as there are old folk in the world, we are still young at heart. And we can helpjust as this woman did, reclaiming her youth and her joy. And indeed, she was right.
Lifes true magic is found, not in chasing youth or beauty, but in the warmth we bring to othersand the way those kindnesses light us up in return.
