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The Subtle Art of Aging Gracefully
A beautiful soul will always be a beautiful soul
Sometimes, I yearn to be that little kid again, with carefree laughter untainted by the burdens of life. Was it when I learned to make simple yet delightful meals — porridge, rice, beans, and chicken stew? I can still picture lighting the stove with a single match, the only one left in the box. Oh, the satisfaction of knowing that, with no matches left, I hadn’t turned off the stove after cooking the rice before moving on to the stew.
Perhaps it was the long walks to school — cutting corners and taking shortcuts under bridges, looking at both sides of the street before crossing busy highways, gleeful at beating the traffic — all to arrive before morning assemblies. I eagerly anticipated being part of that close-knit group of friends: sharing stories, basking in the laughter and warmth of connection, and chatting the dawn away as we cleaned our classroom. The walks back home, just in time to join my family for a drive to the cathedral, felt like a comforting routine. They taught me to trust the strength and resilience of bridges against the Atlantic’s relentless current, a powerful force of nature.
Growing up in a bustling household, my parents often took turns bringing my siblings and me along when they needed to be on time for work or stay late. At the…
