I knew a woman, lovely in her bones...

I saw an older woman today, probably at least 65, decked out the way a younger person might dress in a knee-length denim skirt, heeled sandals and an emerald green tank top. I looked at her for probably 15 seconds wondering why show off the ropy old veiny calves? Why show off the not-quite-straight skinny back? Then I noticed the way her head was up and the way she was smiling... so clearly just happy to be out and about and floating in her city. And I saw the way she walked straight and easily across the street when the light turned, and heard her confident voice as she asked some tourists whether they needed directions. The obvious hit me: she's me in 40 years... if I'm lucky, good, brave, strong and true. She was lovely. After I understood that, I couldn't believe those first 15 seconds of misguided thinking, and I couldn't see her any other way again.

With any luck, I will get old too. I will have white hair. And I, too, will challenge age-related stereotypes in dress and in everything else.
Lady, wherever you've gone, thanks for reminding me.