Perspective

This weekend I visited the Old People. The Old Woman, as she was settling me into her guest room, pointed out the framed photos of me on her art table. She asked me if I remembered being that young.

I looked at my younger self. Hair shiny and bouncy, skin bright and glowing with youthful innocence, a smile that spoke of enthusiasm and adventure for life, and a heart that was open and unscathed.

Then, I looked in the mirror and saw a very different reflection. Hair touched with grey from worries. Skin that carried stories good and bad. A smile that could be mistaken for cynical. And a heart that has known loss and heart ache.

But, for all the differences in reflection, I'm so much happier at this age.