i noticed that my arms now
look more like my mother’s
than my daughter’s.
and that set me to thinking a lot about aging.
wondering where my life has gone
how it’s been spent.
i find myself spending a lot of time
pondering (and fretting a wee bit, truth be known)
about getting older.
about leaving my mark.
about life leaving its marks on me.
today i walked along the beach
noticing the beautiful variety of ways
the passage of time
leaves its mark on nature.
and honestly, i can’t help but wish
that mother nature was as kind to my skin
as she is to the sand.
But she is…
She leaves all the living you have done, etched like stitches, so that those who look at you can see the beauty of your life, in the mystery of your smile.
thank you for this thwack on the side of me head, sugar. i just looked at that beautiful sand and got stuck thinking how much prettier these lines and undulations look on the beach than on my arms. (and legs and chest and face and neck . . . )
ha… yes, i am there, in this same place.
and then you made me think of … “like sands through the hourglass… so are the days of our lives…” so, it could be worse, we could be in a soap opera! 🙂
well, if we were in soap operas we could drink all day (and get paid to do it) and that might help us keep our minds off such atrocities as wrinkled arms. (speaking for myself, of course.) (about the wrinkled arms, i mean.)
Ha! That’s right where my thoughts went when I saw the photos of the sand – If only it were that easy – wrinkles one minute – turn on a fan and poof! they’re gone! 🙂 I’m in the same boat as you Jeanne – same arms, same noticings…thanks for being there with me.
oh sugar, i thought it was only me so tis i who thank you for walking and noticing along side me.
These photos make me want to go to the beach!! For the record, I think you and your skin look far younger than any numerical record might otherwise indicate. 😉
Oh, but she is. She is. Just as kind. And this is lovely. xo
You, me, the Wondrous Spirits in your comment stream and many more are Redefining what it means to be Beautiful. Each and every moment of each and every day; one wrinkle, one age spot, one shining heart at a time …
I notice my hands looking more like my mom’s hands every day. It’s funny. Same thing with my arms. In a way – a badge of honor – I really am my mother’s daughter. 🙂 You are beautiful.
well, yes. i guess i never thought of it like that. thank you, sugar.
I worry that I have no smile lines, and crows feet when I smile or am relaxed. Have I not laughed and smiled enough?
If your skin is closer to your mothers than to your daughters, then you’ve lived your life and your skin tells that story. Aged skin is lived in skin, used skin, skin that tells stories both happy and…not so happy. Treasure your skin as it carries your life story.
oh mark, your words are like a balm to my wrinkled soul. thank you for taking the time to share your wisdom.
this is rich and moving; your photos are incredible
thank you. when i walk, i conjure all sorts of things, connect all sorts of things. it’s nice to meet you.