I stood wearily at my bathroom mirror, straining to see through the veil of toothpaste remnants left there by a family of five. My two youngest children splashed enthusiastically in the lukewarm bath, and occasionally a drop or two from their animated play would find me where I stood at the bathroom sink.
As I hurriedly worked to apply my makeup I didn’t miss the details on the face that looked back at me. It was a changing reflection, and I had been noticing it for a little while now.
It started with pictures. I would see a photograph taken of myself, and as I glanced at it later I would think, who is that older woman?!
At first the tiny lines and dark circles would disappear after a good night’s sleep, but then one day they didn’t. I first noticed them when I was pregnant at thirty-two, and then they returned even more prominent again when I was expecting two years later. But the second time around, even after a full night of rest returned, the lines that had begun their journey on my face decided to take up permanent residence around my eyes.
And those lines were the ones that looked back at me today. I realized that they were there to stay, but for some reason it didn’t affect me like I thought it would. For some reason I found myself smiling, and though that caused the lines to deepen even further, I continued to grin satisfied.
As I watched the fan of lines around my eyes I didn’t see the serious beginnings of crow’s feet. Instead I saw my children learning to crawl, and then to walk. And finally to run. The dark circles told a story of a full day, and an even fuller heart. My eyes saw a plethora of joyful beauty each waking hour, and the vibrancy of it all had left a trail at the corner of each of them.
The lines along my forehead had multiplied and deepened with time, but I was proud for the thoughts that had brought them there. Hours spent thinking of my children, and the future they would have. Hours spent laboring to bring them into the world, and even moments of worry and concern over their little lives had contributed to the crevices above my brow. Somehow the valley left there was the labor of my love for a full life, with so much more left to live.
The lines that surrounded my mouth had been formed after many years of happy smiles, hearty laughter, and perfectly placed kisses. I smiled even wider and watched the lines deepen, amused by the legacy laughter had left behind.
When I looked in the mirror as of late I realized an older woman was staring back at me, and though that fact took me by surprise it was more my reaction that left me taken aback. I didn’t mind.
It wasn’t so much an older woman I saw. Yes, an older woman was there, but more importantly I saw a happy woman who was living life to the fullest extent.
I didn’t mind that my youth was fading, and it didn’t bother me that my face was aging. To me, it just seemed to represent the maturing life that I had been gifted with. It seemed like the expected side effects of a happy life. After all, my heart was so full; it only made sense that the weight of such love would leave a trail across my face.
Perhaps you have to get older, to experience life to fully accept the stripes such an adventure leaves along the way. I knew that I would age over the years. I just didn’t realize that I wouldn’t mind.