This is a photo of a Tonka backhoe. It was left in the sand box one day by my boys many years ago. I found it today, after cutting away many overgrown vines, in the spot where they played with it for the last time.
It struck me as a kind of sad…one day this much loved toy, was never played with again. When was that exactly? I couldn’t say. I just blinked, and they were grown.
I don’t often look in the mirror. I don’t mean to do my hair or make up, but REALLY look. Especially in good light. Yeah. I did that.
Imagine my surprise when I saw the crepe-y skin, not only on my neck, but on my face. When I could no longer deny the existence of the fine (and not quite as fine) lines around my lips (which by the way, are kind of disappearing). My once (naturally) perfectly shaped eyebrows have become sparse. And of course, the dark, puffy semi-circles under my eyes.
I have decided that I do not like being “middle-aged”. I didn’t like being a teenager either. It’s in between. Not an adult, not a kid. Middle age is the in between age of adulthood. Not elderly, but with most of life already passed.
As much as I do not like middle age, all of my lines and wrinkles will deepen with the passage of time. When they’re finished, I’ll be one Hell of an old lady.