Last update: July 21, 2015
In the depths of their eyes thousands of battles are hidden, some the result of violent storms, others of calm breezes.
Their pupils are the treasure of an entire life, they guard the secrets of their path, their steps and their goals.
And their lashes, so solid and at the same time so sensitive, tell of when they had to bear the weight of rivers of tears, and when they were blinded by the sun's rays.
The sure thing is that, when they look at us, they open the doors of their hearts wide, as if an invisible bridge connected us to them. Sometimes they are protected by an armor or a wall, which can be crossed only with the weapons of affection and tenderness; other times, their doors are already open and they are ready to welcome us, with a welcome kiss or hug
Their mouths, silenced by the years, are in no hurry to speak, and when they do, wisdom envelops their words. Even if we don't always accept their advice willingly. If we listen to them, we learn a lot. They give us life lessons, they make us discover its nuances.
Their wrinkles, the folds formed by experience and feelings, by the strength of facts and by the scars left by their wounds and successes, have grown over the years as a sign that characterizes them.
Wrinkles full of effort, wrinkles full of feelings. Wrinkles drawn like chains that have had to bear the weight of suffering. Wrinkles overflowing with love, overflowing with life.
Their skin has endured the deepest wounds we can imagine. Some have already healed completely, but others have remained in the form of scars and, when we touch them with our fingers, they can trigger an avalanche of emotions.
On their shoulders they carry the weight of the loss of those with whom they had formed indissoluble bonds, which not even physical or psychological distance can erase. They remember them through a sensation that emerges from the skin and goes directly to the heart.
Their hands are the foundations and tools of their life, together with their feet, the ones that have left their mark, that have supported them on their journey.
A sinuous, winding, unstable path, full of dangers and obstacles, which they have overcome with indescribable strength.
But also a path full of flowers, fresh air and sweetness, which they enjoyed moment by moment, with the sensitivity of their gaze.
Yet, sometimes we forget it. We forget them ...
La voice of experience swinging between silence and protest, brave hearts that endure despite the storms they have had to go through. Full of teachings, full of wisdom.
They are the heroes of our past and their present, who make us reflect on the fact that anything is possible if we want it. That life leaves marks on the skin, but also on the soul; hot and cold signs, which with their contrast make us feel life.
Who I am?
Older people, the autumn of life. Their eyes and their wrinkles betray them ...
Those who in the past took you by the hand, supported you when you stumbled and taught you to take care of the seeds after planting them, so that they could bear fruit.
And here they are now, next to you or far away. Waiting for your love and yours smiles.
When you meet them, listen to them: their words can be the salvation of your dreams.
When you meet them, understand them: even in silence, because their silence is full of meanings.
When you meet them, hug them. Because a hug, sincere and heartfelt, is a caress to their soul.
And remember: one day you too will be a hero of your present and of the past of those who come.
