I’ve been intrigued by beauty creams ever since I was a young child experimenting with the contents of my grandmother’s dressing table. She had a soft pink cream that smelled like roses, and I’d sneak some to smear on my own skin as often as possible. I suspect that she knew what I was up to, but she never mentioned it. I loved spending time in her upstairs bedroom of the farmhouse that she and my grandfather owned. The big windows looked out over an apple and pear orchard, and red American Beauty roses climbed all over the railings of the balcony.

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Women have used beauty creams since ancient times. Rubbing heated almond oil into the facial skin was a nightly ritual of Egyptian women. I’m not sure how long rose oil has been included in beauty creams, but it’s said to have healing and moisturizing properties. I’m sure that even back in the days when human beings lived in caves, women found something they could use to beautify their complexions.

Now that I’m getting older, I’m spending a lot of money on beauty creams hoping they’ll work some sort of magic on the aging process. Most of the listed ingredients are complicated and confusing words, and I’m not sure that these creams work any better than the one that my grandmother used. I saw her brand for sale in an old-fashioned drug store several weeks ago and bought a jar for nostalgia’s sake, and I’ve found that using it has brought back great childhood memories that none of the fancy creams can provide.

I’ve decided that I can live with the wrinkles when they arrive, but I don’t want to live without the aroma of my grandmother’s beauty cream. Even if it turns out that doesn’t work as well as the ones with the high price tags and complex ingredients, the benefits to my spirit that I get from using it are priceless.