Life Topics

The Mask

Slathering the grey cream all over my face, I give myself a facial that will turn green on contact.  A goolie look I must admit.  All to make my lines, sags and wrinkles disappear from this 59-year-old facade.  Can I be so naive?  Yes, because there was a promise in the bottle, a resound commitment of improvement.  I have to give it a try because of all the years of damage and neglect etched all over my face. I look into the mirror and can make out the cheek bones I used to have, the forehead lines and the mess under my eyes that are visible under the mask.  In 40 minutes, I will wash it off and be beautiful.  They said so.  I guess this is called a “beauty routine.”  It’s an exercise that continues to disappoint.  My face will always be my face.

I’m not dissatisfied with my looks.  With each line and wrinkle, I’ve thanked God for letting me grow old, accepting the consequences.  I’m more than a pretty face.  As my weight has increase, my face has gotten bigger too.  Everything is more pronounced.  The lines where my nose meets my forehead are covered with my glasses thankfully.  A scarf can stylishly drape over the neck lines and keeping a straight face and not scrunching may help to eliminate new lines.  And maybe win poker games too.  Moving into my senior years has me wanting to erase mistakes; personal, professional, and facial mistakes.  Time to atone with toner.

After I rinse the mask, I look in the mirror and remember what I used to look like.  I remember a pretty girl with perfect skin and bright eyes.  She was carefree and thought she’d be 20 years old forever.  Years of sun damage, stress and even some sadness has reinvented her.  I really do love myself for who I am today.  All my experience and wrinkles have an important reason, waiting up for the kids to come home, working overtime, or caring for a sick child.  My face tells a story of someone who has lived a sometimes hard as well as comfortable life.  My journey has been grand and exciting, interrupted by moments of chaos and confusion.  It’s written all over my face.  And you can’t put that in a bottle.

 

Life Topics

Like a Fresh Bloom

I wanted the picture to be a promise.

A symbol of love that smells like a fresh bloom.  Time fades in the background.
A place that didn’t really matter anyway.

It sits on my desk and whispers stories I’ve never heard.  Was she ever that young?  Those hands didn’t belong to her, aged, wrinkled and riddled with veins and spots at the end.

The picture ties me to her other life.  A life without me. Eyes that look hopeful but cautious, not fully knowing anything.  Soon to be a bride, then a mother, my grandmother.

Promise me we’ll see each other again.

Promise.

Life Topics

Wonders Await the Curious Mind

img_0159I walk on feet both callous and soft, stepping firm on the path I’ve chosen.
This journey holds mystery and faith.

Make merry the possibilities of youth
looking to the left and right while moving forward.
Youth is gone, but the excitement lives.

The trail ahead is worn just enough to bring insight and pain.  Avoid the thorns.
Others’ thoughts have made the ground soft and sound, but you must take your own steps, avoiding sharp stones.

Howl at the moon to feel alive and heard.
Breathing deep, feeling the heartbeat of time.
In and out, soft and slow, step and feel,
step and know.

Wonders await the curious mind.
When did my youth end?  Does it matter?
Your winter brings a new vision of your future in pieces.
Walk in the direction that feels new and
alive, no matter what time has taught you.

 

Life Topics

Time and Treason

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Look in the mirror to
see the terms of your journey.
Time and treason have tried to
lead you to other conclusions.
Negative thought is the
predatory of joyful memory.

Try to recognize yourself in the
form that you’ve become.
Sagging and wrinkles are the
result of hope, fear, laughter,
heartbreak and joy.
Embrace yourself, and never
let go.

Don’t let gravity anchor the
spirit of who you once were.
Dance to a new song that was
written for you today.

A life well lived is the gift that
you wear openly.  A face does
not lie to please the vain.
The scale can’t stop my fancy.
My reflection is a map showing
each stop along the way.

I am beautiful.