The woman in the mirror does not reflect the girl inside my soul.
That girl is 40 or 32 or sometimes 22.
Not 60.
I do not feel old except for the days when my hamstring hurts when I drive 20 miles, 10 miles, or even 2 miles to Trader Joe’s for this week’s groceries.
Or days when I can’t remember a conversation with my husband that he swears we had.
Or a task I completed at work. (I don’t even remember reading that email, much less answering it. Why can’t I remember doing that?)
On those days, the days when my body and my mind are failing me I feel it. Every year, every month, every day, every minute, every second of my many years.
The wrinkles on my un-botoxed face show my age, which is terrible, but I try to reframe as wonderful as they capture the life I’ve lived.
Those marionette lines, formed by a lifetime of happy ear-to-ear smiles and boisterous laughter.
The elevens between my eyes formed by frustrations and disappointments too numerous to count.
The crinkles outside my eyes formed by the joy and wonder of motherhood.
A whole lifetime of emotion displayed as a map on my face.
Some days I will look in the mirror and think where has the time gone.
I will remember it’s already been two years since my niece died, three years since stepfather died, five years since my father died, sixteen years since my sister-in-law died, 20 years since my grandmother died and it feels like forever and yesterday at the same time.
Amanda. Bill. Dad. Tammy. Grandma.
How are we all just carrying on without you?
Life is so precious, yet so easy to take for granted.
I must remind myself to appreciate it, marvel at it.
All of it.
The bitter coffee with too much cream savoured on quiet mornings, gulped down on chaotic ones.
The dream vacations, long planned, finally taken, over too soon.
The daily dog walks with familiar sights and friendly neighbors.
Texts and memes sent by friends as a way to say I love you.
Time spent with my wonderful adult children.
The mundane and the sublime.
The woman in the mirror does not reflect the girl inside this old face. This old body.
That girl still feels so young.
But maybe it does reflect the woman that girl has become.
Charlene Ross 
Beautiful. You’re doing that thing again where you reach down my throat and pull out my words. I am so with you girl. What a joy life is getting to know a gal like you. My long distance sass sista, this was everything xoxo
Thank you, friend. That means a lot coming from you. And that joy is mutual! Mwah! xoxo
thank you for this . Your words resonate with me and many others
right there with you my friend. Eager to go play as I await my post 60th hip replacement. Cherish every moment , check in with friends
Thank you so much, Cathy. And great to hear from you. Best of luck with that hip replacement. I have no doubt your recovery will be speedy and you’ll be zooming around in no time! xoxo
Beautiful and vulnerable… thank you for sharing ❤️
Thank you so much, Matt. ❤️
Your beautiful words capture so much. “Marvel at it”- indeed! The beauty is in the quiet and mundane as much as it is in the memorable. I have come to know aging as this reconciliation; what matters to me today is so different than what it was 10 or fifteen years before this. Stay curious and remain 22 in that soul, my friend, and keep writing for you are damn good!
Thank you so much, my sweet friend. I appreciate your kind words. Miss you!!!
As I expected this made me cry reading it, even though I already cried when I heard you read it out loud. I’m so glad I can now share it with others!
Thank you so much, my beautiful friend! ❤