The one without much of a worry in her life. The one who had made it through unheard of crisis and drama and managed to still march to the beat of her own drum... Once she existed. She knew what she wanted. She knew where she was going. She had a dream. She loved. She was loved. She could conquer the world.Looking at this picture it's hard to believe it was taken nearly a year to the day before he was stolen from me. I look so much younger. I'm about 40 pounds lighter... no crows feet... clear skin... 29 suited me. 30 is when life went to hell in a hand basket. 31 was just as intense. Most days I hardly recognize the woman in the mirror looking back at me... with her lines and wrinkles... filled in cheeks... and those hollow eyes. Gone is her youthfulness.
The only thing that remains the same is the melody playing in my own mind... the one that thinks I still look like her in the mirror when my eyes tell me a different story...
1 comment:
If it makes you feel any better, 29 was my worst year. I found my first white hair, I started getting wrinkles under my eyes, After my 3rd baby, NOTHING is ever the same... It seemed like it ALL happened at the same time. My oldest son had just gone to kindergarten, I felt like older and just about had a midlife crisis. I'm trying to maintain as much youth as I can, but wow. There is no going back.
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