I have a routine. It starts after we get home from a walk and my infant daughter is down for her nap. It goes: shower, face care, lotion (start from the feet/legs and move up). It is my time to myself; a time of quiet in my house. Though, today, I had a thought as I was putting my face cream on. LOL, yeah. That.
When did I start worrying about this? When did I start worrying about wrinkles and the like or how old I look? I always thought I’d be above such things, as pretentious teenager as that sounds.
I’ve noticed, over the past couple of weeks, that sometimes I will catch my reflection in the mirror and I look…different. I cannot quite describe it but my face looks different to me. Softer was the word that came to me when I first noticed it. I sort of felt like I was looking at someone far classier and more graceful than I have ever been (read: felt). Now I find that I start looking for her, for that face that looks like not my own but, apparently, is my own. It has to be. I don’t think any of the four mirrors in our house are magic, in any case. I search for that face now, search without searching for her. I look to catch her in the corner of my eye. When I do spy her, I try to keep very still and just look, for fear I’ll scare her off. It’s in those quiet moments that I find her lovely, find her to be…what I always wanted to be.
And there she is, in my mirror. And I can find her. Me. Sometimes. So, I guess, thank God for routine.
One thought on “The Face in the Mirror”
So glad for you finding her love! ❤
I see mine and she looks happier than every before. Gaining little creases in the corners of her eyes, and silver hairs at her temples more and more each year. And She. Is. Beautiful.