It’s Gorgeous Grandma Day today, and in honour of the gorgeous grandmas out there, we share a little story.
About a gorgeous grandma, of course.
Because beauty isn’t dealt or borrowed–it’s earned.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
Grandma Mae lived in a nursing home, but didn’t feel nursed– the retirement community offered friendship, activity and what grandma loved most of all– regular visits from her granddaughter, Ava.
No, no walking sticks or Mobility devices for her. She was a picture of dignity– lace gloves, red lipstick, and an antique mirror compact that never left her side.
Age?
Just a number.
No one dared mention it in front of her for fear of a verbal backlash tsunami. She wore the supple skin of a 25-year-old debutante every year.
And she was sharp. Even Ginsu knives couldn’t beat her cutting edge-nothing could get past her.
That compact.
A ladies’ gem.
She never missed checking herself in it.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
Gorgeous Grandma Day arrived at the retirement community, and Grandma, as usual, helped to set the festivities in full swing.
With her typical gusto.
And that compact.
Of course, she couldn’t miss her regular 5-minute in it.
Ava took a Polaroid.
It developed– instantly.
Polaroids did that.
But they didn’t develop altered faces. Not usually.
But they did Grandma’s.
She looked older in the photo.
Disheveled.
Frail.
The photo even recoiled slightly, as if avoiding the truth.
Ava balked. The mirror was telling one story– the Polaroid, another.
Time had touched her grandma– but she didn’t know how.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
Ava slipped into Grandma’s room that night, and almost regretted that she did.
There was the elderly lady, whispering.
To herself.
“One more year. Then I give you the girl down the hall.”
The mirror pulsed.
A loud shriek the next morning.
Lucy, a few doors down the hall, sat in her chair, eyes with a vacancy beyond vacuous.
Staring.
Into space.
Not reacting.
The compact bound. And Grandma was tied to it.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
The mirror had offered grandma the gift of beauty.
She wanted the very best for her darling granddaughter and offered her the legacy.
Just a touch.
Age reduced– by a decade.
Ava took it. After all, who wouldn’t want to be the gorgeous babe every boy at the gym wanted to date?
Then, the echoes.
Faint calls.
“Help me…”
Guilt flooded her like a tidal wave.
Ava shut the compact.
Grandma was part of its cycle.
And she, Ava, knew she had been called to carry it on.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
Ava didn’t heed that call.
She ignored it– with a flourish.
She threw the mirror on the floor.
It crumbled.
A thousand pieces.
Grandma Mae crumbled along with it–aging, features melting into dust.
Ava grew lighter.
Stronger.
Because gorgeous wasn’t something dealt or borrowed– it was earned.
💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶💄🪞👵✨🔮💔👁️🫶
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