Wrinkly love

I was looking at a couple on the tube the other day. They were married, in their late fifties, trying to navigate their way around the Central Line. I think one of them might have been wearing a bum bag which, by the way, while I can see the practical benefits it is still unforgivable unless you are a carnie/pikie (like how I'm catering for my audiences?). She, was a little thick around the waist with a crazy, crazy, boof of hair and he, thicker, less hair with a large serving of grey. At first, it made me wonder what they were like at 28, which then led me to wonder how they saw each other - whether it was of each other now or, of each other young.

Aging is a peculiar thing. Naturally, none of us really look forward to it. Shallowly, it's kind of cruel. Emotionally hard and sad to grasp yet mortally, totally understandable. Truthfully, I'm not sure how well I'm going to take aging seeing as though the prospect of 30 is giving me tri-monthly freak outs and raised veins and loose skin makes me have to shut my eyes and go to my happy place. But all of that aside, when you age with someone, you have a mirror to your own change. It must be a strange yet comforting experience to grow old with your partner and similarly, your friends. Every wrinkle of yours will be matched by theirs, every grey, every bag, every added inch to the waist you once had. But with every gravity defying year also comes another series of moments shared. And that, is a beautiful thought.

So that takes me back to my original question, when you've spent the good part of 20, 30, 40, 50 years with someone, when you look into the eyes that haven't change, but everything around them has, which version of them do you see?