I am seeing lines around my eyes that I never noticed before. And honestly I like them. Everyday I put on a bit of make up and I really take it all in. The changes in my skin. The little bag under my left eye. The grey at the crown of my head that is so persistent. And I don't mind a bit of it. 

Sometimes I am surprised by it. Sometimes I try to remember what I looked like in my twenties and thirties before the lines. But it is unfamiliar to me. I only know the woman in this mirror. The one right now.

When I think of the woman I was without the creases and the grey hair she does not feel that familiar because there was so much she did not understand. That woman did not appreciate love or life the way that I do. That woman lacked experience. She did not know what I know now. 

So though I understand her, the woman without the lines, I don't wish for her. I don't pine for her. She had her time. 

I do, however, respect her. She did her best with what she had. She tried hard and she lead the way.

She lead the way. And I carry her with me, sweetly. Cause she needs the tenderness that only I can offer. 

I see glimpses of her most days. Her smile. It's the same. 

The light in her eyes. The way she tilts her head or raises her eyebrows is not lost on me.

There she is, with me. Young and old together in the mirror.

Taking it all one day at a time.

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