Words of Wisdom Wednesday

When I saw this, I thought, "This really sums up aging!" I consider myself in the middle of aging--not quite as old as what these wise words suggest, but heading in that direction. Some things are already here, like being sure to hold the hand rails on the steps and sitting more. I always loved to nap--since I was a teenager and then when raising children. Now I rarely nap--not because I do't love them, but because I don't have the time. There is so much I want to do and don't have the time for. Oh wait, sometimes I nap in the movie theater! 

Okay, on to what prompted this post. If this was real paper, there would be tear stains on it!

It doesn’t happen all at once.

There’s no announcement, no warning, no moment where life taps you on the shoulder and tells you:

“Look closely… things are changing.”

It happens quietly.

You’re busy — working, raising kids, paying bills, rushing through days that feel too short.

And then one afternoon, you go home to visit your parents…

and something soft inside you shifts.

You notice the small things first:

Your father gets up from the couch a little slower.

Your mother asks you to repeat something she once would’ve heard clearly.

The house feels the same —

but the people inside are aging gently, silently.

You notice they hold the railing when they go downstairs.

They double-check the locks before bed.

They sit more than they stand.

They nap more.

They walk a little closer together.

You realize things you never thought about before:

Who changes the lightbulbs now?

Who carries the heavy groceries?

Who helps them understand the new phone they’re afraid to break?

And suddenly, the roles you’ve always known start shifting.

The hands that raised you

now tremble when pouring tea.

The voices that soothed you

now need reassurance themselves.

The people who once felt invincible

now feel beautifully, heartbreakingly human.

You begin to understand something deeper:

Growing older isn’t just happening to them —

it’s happening to you, too.

And love starts to look different.

It becomes:

• driving them to appointments

• fixing things they didn’t want to ask help for

• listening to stories you’ve already heard

• staying a little longer instead of rushing out

• calling even when you’re tired

• appreciating all the little sacrifices you once overlooked

Because now you finally see it:

Your parents aren’t just aging.

They’re winding down a chapter they spent decades writing —

a chapter filled with you.

And the quiet truth is this:

They won’t say it out loud,

but they’re hoping you’ll walk through their door a little more often.

Not to fix anything.

Not to bring anything.

Just to be there.

To sit.

To talk.

To laugh.

To listen.

To remind them that they’re still needed…

still valued…

still loved.

One day, you’ll realize these are the visits that matter most.

Because time moves fast.

But moments with aging parents?

Those are the memories that stay soft forever.