Reflection

Yeah, so I ran through the valley of youth and I came out the other end, scarred but alive. Not as young as I once was but kicking still the same. I never thought I’d get this old. Not in my wildest dreams did I see myself as wrinkled, washed-out, and sagging. Not me, no sir, not me. But here I am. I look in the mirror and I say, Who are you?

That’s a damn good question. Where did all these years go? Where is the young girl in curls who loved caterpillars and Tootsie Roll pops? I don’t understand this passage of time and why it has to be a part of life. Why can’t I be young forever? I watch young women passing me by, unseeing like I don’t exist. Are they afraid to look at their future?

I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror the other day as I was pushing a cart down the aisle in Target. I was shocked by the worn-out woman staring back at me. If I had the money, I would have made an appointment, right then and there, with a plastic surgeon. Make me young again, please! I don’t like this getting-old thing.

When I see an elderly woman I wonder what she looked like when she was young…and I know one day someone will wonder the same thing about me (if they aren't already doing it).