To that new gray hair, I see you there
Replacing the brown in plain view.
You’re not misplaced, but I must say
I’m not at all thrilled to see you.
You see, I’m not quite 35
So I thought I had time.
But the aging, it seems, happens daily.
Is it because of the teenager or the baby?
I don’t mind getting older,
It’s a privilege, I think.
So many don’t get the chance
To see years pass in a blink.
The part that gets me
And the piece I can’t stand
Is looking in the mirror and
Not recognizing who I am.
Am I a 35-year-old mother to two,
Stepmom to one, a wife to you?
I could have sworn I just finished college,
Went to the bar, and stayed out til two.
Is this what aging looks like, unnoticed except
For the day-in, day-out small changes that crept
Into the mirror, and you look back in time,
Only to realize that the person you were is not there.
But it’s fine.
It’s fine because you realize that person is there,
Staring back at you, but with a little gray hair.
You’re older yes, and wiser too.
More patient, forgiving, and you can be honest with you.
I mean honest as in you finally know
Who you really are and how you need to grow.
Because aging is learning and learning is changing.
It’s the only way that all those gray hairs are worth making.
As you sit there and stare at the person you see
Don’t be afraid to ask “is that person still me?”
I might see 25, but I’m glad that’s not real.
35’s got kids, and a family, and for that I can feel
Grateful and tired and loved and glad
That the gray hairs are proof of all the stories I’ve had.