" what happens when old age comes?" I asked grandma Ruth.

Ten at the time, I was a curious wreck. If the sun smiled or frowned, I sought to know why. So, when I met my grandmother's shriveled skin, saggy breasts and wrinkled face, I brewed my mind in wonder.

Her laughter was a crackle of hoarse voice. Words struggled to be said but her tongue was a weak nanny. Once again, she was a child. And like children, she had to learn to navigate the treacherous tides of daily living.

" Before it comes, do enough good. It will give you smiles that heal your weak bones.

When it comes, you bend you back and wear the grey hair with pride."

Truth is, her answer did nothing to satisfy my curiosity.

I wanted to know how it felt to be old. To have people obliging every request. If being old was a different life.

Grandma Ruth passed on before I turned twelve. I had seen little of her, so my tears were spared.

For some reason, I felt alone in that state.

The priest stayed longer than I wanted. I couldn't leave if he didn't. 

The masquerade came a little while later. 

It was a strange scene. It didn't make sense. Why would people celebrate death? If it was such a good thing, why were my father's sisters unconsolable?

I soon picked another subject of interest before the funeral was over. She might have been my grandmother's age.

But after a single conversation with her, I was filled with curses I never heard  at home. She was cranky, and I fear, morally destitute—several parallel lines away from grandma Ruth.

Was I traumatised? Yes. But I also learnt from her. 

Old age was a visitor whom people received differently. 

Some with a measure of peace. Others, with a fist, bottles of gin, tobacco, and series of uncensored gaslighting like souls masking regrets and mistakes, by anger and denial.

At first, I maintained it was their fault. They should have worked more, built relationships, and invested in businesses.

So, I outlined my days and years. I should marry at eighteen and have children before twenty-five. 

By then, I would be done with university, and gone ahead to obtain my masters Degree and doctorate degree.

I would travel abroad on fellowships, while flourishing as a lecturer in a federal university. 

The lists grows from there.

Tides came, and life happened.

At early twenties, I hadn't married, and admission requirements had not been met.

Soon, my skin lost its tone, and anxiety crept under my skin. 

Nothing had been achieved. The list was just the lyrics of a fading dream.

Several years later, I'm watching my parents at a dinner without meat. They smile and laugh with no care in the world.

I dropped my spoon and interrupted them.

“ Do you have any regrets? Do you feel unfulfilled some times?”

My father chuckled. “ Stella, growing old together is a miracle for us. Regrets have no room here.”

It was then I realised, it took grace to age.

But it takes gratitude to accept old age.