She smiled, a grin of genuine contentment, someone at peace with who they are and the decisions they’ve made. She wore her dressing gown like an evening dress, and sipped her tea like royalty. I organised her medications and she talked while I worked, a pleasant bubbling of words and stories, her actions energetic and youthful.
I asked her what her secret was, and she told me,
“I was born in 1919. I’ll be ninety-five this year, and I walk two miles everyday.”
She winked and her brows danced.
“If you don’t use it, you lose it.”