Blue Hair at 92

This Is How I Want to Age

She was 92. Needed a walker. Hair: bright blue with streaks of purple.
I couldn’t help myself—I walked straight over and told her how fabulous she looked.

Her response?

“As long as I have breath in my lungs, I choose to be loud and seen.”

And that was it. No apology. No explanation. Just truth.

There was something holy in that moment.
Something that whispere…