The very cool gift of getting older

Gratitude for grays (for now, anyways)

I’m not unfamiliar with the odd gray hair here and there.

But last Friday, as I drove to yoga—Holly strapped in the backseat—I couldn’t avert my eyes from the reflection of my centre part in the rear view mirror; the late morning sun glinting wildly against new, bright, brittle silver—seemingly having sprouted overnight.

The sudden onset of these new strands is timely, given that I’m also—now, more than ever—noticing and analyzing the lines and creases that run over and along the skin of my face.

But I know someday—years, or perhaps even only months from now—I will look back on this time of my life and wonder why I was being so self-critical.

So for now, I’m reminding myself that the gray hairs and fine lines are precious gifts—truly— that so many are not afforded. (Those rogue silver strands are actually pretty beautiful. And the lines on my forehead are from the over-the-top animation and facial expressions I do every day in hopes of producing a giggle from my toddler or my baby).

Sure, I’ll keep dying my hair. And Botox isn’t off the table.

But right now, I think I’m just gonna (at least try to) soak it in: this very cool gift of getting older.

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See you next week : )