Beauty.

{My Grandma Anna Seamons Dixon, 1938}

Do you want to know the cutest, most romantic thing I've heard all week?

Last night, I snuggled up next to my ninety-two year-old grandma for a picture. It's always a treat to see her; to hug her and kiss her soft face. She's so fluffy and little. And let me tell you, the toll ninety-two years can have on a woman's body!


Her hair is entirely white, her hands shake, her voice is quiet, and the limbs of her body knob and curve - she can no longer walk unaided.

But in light of it all, right before the picture was taken, she tilted her head towards me and said, "I hope my hair looks alright."

If that isn't the cutest!

There is still a girl within her, at heart. And the idea of it, the idea of romance, is ever-changing. Like the body, it ages and dims. But I know it never really leaves us. Not ever.

It tarries with us here and hereafter. It's so much a part of who we are.

I'm thankful for that. I find it feminine and charming.

I find it reflective of eternity. Of true love.

The very thought of it warms me.