When did this happen?

Today, I looked in the mirror. No, I mean I REALLY looked. It was somewhat of a surprise to see who was staring back at me. Can't say I recognize her. She may be related -but probably not. She has hair like straw, so unlike my own shiny tresses. Those puffy things, like eyes, are bordered by chicken feet- no way like those drop-dead bedroom eyes of mine. She must smoke, as there are little tiny lines around her thin lips. I never smoked(sniff-sniff), and just know that God has rewarded me with plump, sultry lips that lipstick wouldn't dare bleed into. And those rouge-colored cheeks, nose and chin look more like she slept on a sandpaper pillow. The soft roses in my cheeks are more suited to a woman who blushes easily ....at some overheard compliment.

Yet, there she was.


Looking pathetically unlike myself. Does she deserve to look the way she does? Maybe. Could be a nightly wine habit... or chronic worry has etched crevices around a set of pursed lips. She may forget to slather cream on that worn, leathery skin. And there is no doubt she sleeps in her make-up and forgets the SPF foundation on that crepe around her neck.

But she continues to look at me, like a silent accuser. Poor thing...who is she?

Note to self: when I finally turn the corner onto Antiquity Lane, it is with grace and a good-natured sense of adventure, accepting each day for what it is; good, bad or just a day. And after easing into the final one third of my alloted years (give or take), the lessons learned from life will not be drawn in hills and valleys of facial landscape nor resemble a rumpled bed, wrinkled and unkempt. The aging woman that appears someday in my mirror will have soft contours and lips that turn upwards in a Mona Lisa smile; smug in the knowledge that she lived a life that left few clues as to her real age or chronicles. If only the face in the mirror could meet the serene woman I will someday be. The thought makes me smile a little. And appears to please the face in the mirror as well.