Those wrinkles next to my eyes. Can they be mine?
The extra skin on the backs of my hands and wrists–the skin that wrinkles and looks like it wants to leather–mine too?
In my mind’s eye I am the little girl with the short braids, the missing two front teeth and round cheeks tight with sunburn …eyes twinkling with joy and delight.
I am the girl in the picture–captured in black and white…a young woman with long light hair and a lineless face.
I am the almost bride–walking down the aisle to my groom. Hopes and dreams flowing through my eyes.
I am the young mother a throat filled with love, eyes brimming with happy tears, exhaustion not yet settling on my shoulders.
But as Plath instructs us…mirrors do not lie. But maybe our mind’s eye doesn’t either.
I am all of those things. I am proud of those things. I just cannot believe that the years have whizzed by.
…unfinished. unpolished.
where will my mind’s eye take me next? where will it rest 20 years from now? 40 years from now?
what hopes will have fallen to the wayside and what desires will be fulfilled?
what stories will be lived. told and retold?
