“I was a pretty young gal wen I was young ” said Aunt Hilda, her voice trailing off as she gazed afar – way back into the distant years. It seemed she was reliving every episode of her life. I remained silent, holding a tuft of her hair in my hand, waiting patiently for her to continue. “You’re still beautiful, Aunt Hilda. Even more so now,” I said, trying to bring her back from her journey into time.