You're not twenty-five anymore. Not thirty either. Tight-skinned, with young children about the house, in the prime of young motherhood and your ever-nesting heart. You're in the stage after. The one you never thought much of. The one devoid of little, pitter-patter toddler feet and a young one to look after all day. The stage where life begins to make its subtle markings about your face. Those lines that shoot out the sides of your eyes like the rays of sun when you smile. You're grappling with your kids growing up too fast, while begrudging your next wiry, gray hair springing up all uninvited out of your head. You're dealing with a new phase of you.And, let me tell you, she's beautiful.Not in spite of those wrinkles forming and smile lines etching, but because of them. You've laughed and cried and felt. You've lived With every fiber of yourself. Claim it And those spry, gray hairs? Chalk them up to mementos earned through wisdom gained. You're wiser these days And let me tell you, wisdom looks good on you Be the authentic, confident you that only ripens with age No covering up. No apologies. Let's tend to our hearts as well as our fickle fretting over our hair. Let us be as the sunflowers, all bright and basking in the day's glow, full of sunshiny smile-lines. Face to the sun, let us likewise laugh at the days to come, with joy and expectation.
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