Today I helped a 105 year old woman put on her necklace, her frail fingers wouldn't work the clasp. The gold was tarnished, the pendant the size of a broach and it didn't compliment the sweat-suit or ear-rings she was wearing but all that didn't matter; 105 and she still wants to look beautiful.

I admire this woman, still an avid reader of large print books, still independantly mobile in her wheel chair. Her mind is her own while other residents 30 years her junior are bed ridden with minds of mush. They stare blankly at the ceilings, speak jibberish or not at all.

I try to imagine what kind of life she's led in 105 years, all the transformations she's witnessed, how many books she's read, all the many people she's met-she knew the poet whom my highschool was named after-and it's impossible. But, I feel priviledged to be able to help her feel beautiful again.