People approach her now as royalty. Their faces flush with joy amid the grace she exudes. With her latest birthday, she has accomplished something they covet. She is 103 & healthy.

   Oddly, most can barely congratulate her without rushing to brag about their own long-lived relatives. "My mom just turned 91," one fellow crowed today as he & and a pal stood by my mom. "I got you beat," his friend trumpeted. "My mom is 95!"

   Then both fell silent realizing they sounded foolish before one who is older than anyone they know (although you may already be anxious to say you have a grandma who is 110.)

   Why are we bragging anyway? What did we do?

   If this is a game of "Can You Top This," I guess my mom wins, at least in most crowds. She could not care less. 

   She often forgets her age anyway. She knows that it is quality of life not quantity that counts. She knows some live more in thirty years than others do in seventy. 

   Joy makes up in height for what it lacks in length. Amazingly, she has the gift of both. 

   The day after her birthday I asked Mom about God. "I'm not ready to meet him yet," she laughed. She loves her life.

   Everyone seeks Mom's secret. "I brush my teeth after dinner so I won't eat anymore,." she told one person. She takes one pill (a semi-useful thyroid concoction,) walked three miles a day up until she was 94 & has never taken a vitamin or read a single book on how to live a long & successful life. She laughs a lot & (unlike me) never preaches to anyone. 

   Inner peace is ageless. Joy is measureless. Both have richness. We find that wealth by living love, not fear. And by laughing a lot.  

Erie Chapman