Thoughts On Aging

I have begun to notice the ways in which my face is starting to show signs of change, of growing a little older, and I love it. The lines that stay a little longer when I express emotion with the muscles, and the bumps and scars are stories of having lived through a thing or two, of having laughed a lot, cried a lot, of having felt, and they carry important memories with them, memories to celebrate and cherish as well as ones to learn from. I see my Dad, I see my beautiful Nana in my own face. Like the time I found my first gray hairs (they came in a pair), I failed to understand why most people today feel such a need to reject and change that beautiful process called aging. Erasing lines like erasing stories and marks of journeys. Why would anyone want to do that unless the underlying desire was to erase their life?