Ageing is lovely, if you don't fight it. It is like drinking wine, sipping and swirling it at all the right places, when you start to recognize each of the underlying notes in it.
You realize the importance of gradual ascension in a trek.
Unknown, unbranded solid perfumes made from essential oils and wax alone start looking way more appealing than some random Davidoff or Carolina Herrera picked up in a rush from the duty-free counter in the airport.
You start questioning discounts.
You realize the worth of other veggies besides potatoes. You give the Maggi and egg bhurji a break, you start cooking real dishes.
You have conversations with your mother, father, older uncles and in-laws. Real conversations. You are pleasantly surprised to learn that these people have distinct personalities, real identities that you had no part in shaping. They are not known in the world as So-and-so's Mum/ Dad. You begin to understand what makes them who they are and consequentially you start finding things out about yourself and where that comes from.
Reading becomes even more important than before.
You don't feel the need to have a large group of friends around you to have fun. You are not lonely when you are alone.
You don't look for clothes that reveal your best body bits, you sport your character.
It is such a lovely time, when you become emotionally mature. Much like how we rebelled against the physical changes during puberty and adolescence, we tend to fight against this time of ripening emotional maturity as well.
Stop the fight, revel in the ripening.
You are served on the world's table as a delicacy whose time has come. A bunch of sweet grapes under a cloche.