The Stranger in the Mirror
Some days, when I look in the mirror, I'm shocked. Who is this woman with her tired eyes, and, what the hell happened to her skin? I honestly go around most of the day thinking I still look like this- Me. 1987. Kill Devil Hills, NC Ah. Youth. We take it for granted because we think that somehow we're going to be the one to hold on to it. We look at our elders, feeling pity for their gray hair and wrinkles, so glad that it isn't us. Then overnight, Father Time steps in and does his dance across our bodies. Parts that used to point heavenward are now gesturing to the grave that is standing at attention. Smooth, perfect skin wrinkles and creases under his aging polka. He cha-cha's across our joints, leaving them achy and dry. Last of all, he siphons out all the energy and vigor, draining just enough that we feel like we can do something, then lose steam halfway through. What is up with those bangs?? I miss that girl. She loved trying new things. She danced ...