Time. What is time in the eyes of an elder reaching the point where time doesn't means anything? We count life by minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, but for grandma it is all about memories. A luggage she takes on her travels across the galaxy of her mind. A huge collection of moments, laughs and tears. The birth of her first daughter, the first kiss of her first love, the first song she danced, the first book she read. Today it is the silence what sounds in her living room, where she sits to watch how we sit to watch the TV, or as we pass by, looking the clock, measuring everything, giving weigh and value to what we believe it's important. But for grandma it is all about emotions. A very long melody that never stop playing, always experiencing new waves of feelings. The ones in her skin, on her lips, in her heart. Breathing slowly, catching every little fragrance strayed in the air, every taste in her tongue, every ray of light filtering through the cracks of the wood. When I look her I hear a voice, but her mouth doesn't move an inch, even though I listen carefully and it says:
"We are just memories and emotions. That's what really matters. Not at the end, but since the beginning, since the day you open your own eyes to this life. And time does not exist, never was and never will".
The wisdom of the calmness, of the beautiful peace inside her tender soul. She live in a peaceful realm, where hope it's not needed, not the waiting, not the rush. Where she is eternal. Where she is a tree, a forest, a river, a mountain, a planet, a complete universe vibrating the most beautiful sounds.
Photo by myself.