Nicole Charest
The years steal nothing. They lighten our load. Slowly, patiently, they carry away the useless, the illusions, the battles lost before they began. They relieve us of what weighed down our hearts, what distanced us from ourselves.
As time passes, we learn to sort through things. To recognize what deserves our energy, our attention, our love. What truly nourishes us. What elevates us. The years teach us to give up without bitterness, to let go without regret, to love without possessing.
They also teach us tenderness toward our own flaws. We become gentler with our mistakes, more patient with our slowness. What we thought were weaknesses becomes wisdom. What we fled from becomes a source. What we lose becomes a passage.
The years invite us to return to the essential: to the simple beauty of a quiet morning, to the discreet joy of a sincere gesture, to the peace of an inhabited silence. They remind us that true luxury is internal: being at peace with oneself, walking lightly, loving freely.
And if they take certain things away from us, they offer us new clarity in return. A tender lucidity. An ability to see beyond appearances, to listen to what is left unsaid, to embrace what is.
Because aging is also growing up. It is becoming more real. Closer. More alive.
© Nicole Charest | lapetitedouceur.org
