Each morning I stand before the mirror readying myself for the day. I am always a bit behind schedule, rushing through each process preoccupied by thoughts of my upcoming schedule. Usually, I just go through the motions of my routine, but today was different. Today I stood looking at the reflection that was looking back at me.
Who is that person with the seemingly curious stare? As I peer into the reflection in the mirror, I am fascinated by both the familiarity and the vagueness I see. When did the gray hair creep in, the wrinkles, and the maturity? I carefully study the thoughtful complexity that the longevity of aging has afforded me. Did I realize how much life was there at that moment or was I caught off guard by the lack of youth? Each line has an experience, each blemish, and imperfection a memory, each dimple a story, each freckle a day.
Time passes so quickly it seems that before I realized it, I was that reflection. Each morning I stand before the mirror readying myself for the day. I am always a bit behind schedule, rushing through each process preoccupied by thoughts of my upcoming schedule. Usually, I just go through the motions of my routine, but today was different. Today I stood looking at the reflection that was looking back at me.
Who is that person with the seemingly curious stare? As I peer into the reflection in the mirror, I am fascinated by both the familiarity and the vagueness I see. When did the gray hair creep in, the wrinkles, and the maturity? I carefully study the thoughtful complexity that the longevity of aging has afforded me. Did I realize how much life was there at that moment or was I caught off guard by the lack of youth? Each line has an experience, each blemish, and imperfection a memory, each dimple a story, each freckle a day.
Time passes so quickly it seems that before I realized it, I was that reflection life.
Though I no longer see the delicate adolescence in my face, as I deliberate this reflective juncture, I celebrate the wisdom that time has afforded me. I will smile at the laugh lines, and giggle at the crow’s feet that line each expression on my face. I will remember those people and the moments that have helped mold me into the person I am. So as I joke that I didn’t get any younger, nicer or prettier, laugh with me knowing that if nothing else, I got older and with that fact hopefully wiser.
Today, I looked at my reflection and I met me.
Kelly Artieri lives with her family in western New York. Pets have always been an important part of her life. Though not a dog professional, she welcomes them into her home as family members, most recently with her deaf Dalmatian. This is her first book, but she has a creative voice and an amazing story to tell.
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