**Diary Entry 12th June**
Today was my dear aunt Margarets seventieth birthday. A proper milestone. Shed bought fine fabric and ordered a lovely dress for the occasionelegant, timeless. To match, shed found a pair of exquisite silver earrings online, not cheap, mind you. When she put them on and glanced in the mirror, she looked years younger.
*”One simply cant go without a little something new now and then,”* she thought. *”Lifts the spirits, it does.”*
She busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a feast for the guestsher sisters were coming, and her brother was bringing their frail mother, whod soon be ninety-five. The table gleamed with the good china, and the food looked fit for royalty.
When the guests arrived, they settled the old lady in the place of honour. Shed sit a while, as always, then rest in the next room when she tired.
Margaret changed into her new dress, fastened the earrings, and stepped out. The room gasped. She glowed at their admirationsuch a lovely feeling. The first toast was raised, then the second, as tradition demanded. But then, one sister piped up:
*”Youve surprised me, Margaret. Ordering a dress at seventy! And earringsposh ones at that. Whatever for? Youre always at home, love. No gentleman to impress, no work, no theatre outings. Youve cupboards full of lovely old dresseswear those out first.”*
The others nodded, chiming in about their own wardrobes bursting with unworn finery.
Suddenly, the new dress felt tight, the earrings heavy, dragging at her lobes. A hollow ache settled in her chest. *”Seventy is seventy,”* she thought bitterly. *”Lifes passed me by, and here I am, a dolled-up old woman.”* Her smile vanished, her face stiff.
She didnt want to talk. Didnt want to eatthe food turned to ash in her mouth. The guests sensed the shift; the chatter died.
Then, her mother, silent till then, spoke.
*”My own mother lived near a hundred,”* she said, voice steady. *”And my father too. Long-lived, we are. When Mother turned ninety, Father went to the market and bought her a crimson shawl. At supper, he pulled it from hiding and draped it over her shoulders. She sat there, stroking it with her old hands, radiant. Looked twenty years younger, she did.”*
She paused, then added softly, *”We dont live for thingsthings are meant to bring us joy. Love and kindness keep us young.”*
Then, sharp as a knife, she turned to the sister whod spoken: *”Mind that sharp tongue of yours. Words have weight.”* With that, she rose and left to rest.
The table stayed quiet, the air thick. The sister muttered an apology, but the damage was done. The forced jokes fell flat, the laughter hollow.
Thenrescue. Margarets favourite niece, Emily, arrived with her husband. Cheerful greetings, warm embraces. Her husband knelt, presenting roses, then crooned a line from an old ballad. Emily produced a small boxa string of river pearls inside.
*”Where on earth did you find these?”* someone gasped.
Emily fastened them around Margarets neck, tugging her to the mirror, clapping, laughing. The room brightened. Glasses clinked, toasts rang out. The poison had lifted, replaced by real joy.
Margaret sat, fingering her pearls, thinking: *”Seventy? A mere number. So much life aheadjust live it, love it.”*
And there she wasradiant, elegant, seventy years young. A woman truly happy on her birthday.
**Lesson learned:** Never let sour words steal your joy. The right companyand a little finerycan turn any day golden.
