I always said to myself “I will not grow old gracefully”
Fighting it tooth and nail: whitening, painting, covering. Running.
From time, from myself.
But I was younger then and the fight seemed like a battle to be won.
Today, I have stopped running and the decades contained within these 18 months have caught up with me.
The fine line between “MILF” and “Grannie”, a prescription and wrong step away.
In the mirror I see a glimpse of my future self: silver blonde hair, laugh lines -if I’m lucky.
Sunspots from days outdoors in the fresh air where nothing matters but dirt
Because that’s where I’ll end up.
And the only way to get there
Is through Grace