Prettier from a Distance

While folding laundry today I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. From that distance, I’m not half bad. My curly short hair is different than other women my age and frames my face with a wild softness in keeping with my energy. I have curves now; a 38DD which I find uncomfortable in every way but which balances my hips which were always big even when I was not. My features are different than the average woman, gentle but striking, and from this many paces I am a curious creature worthy of notice. So, I put down the towels I was folding to investigate.

I sat on the arm of the chair just in front of the mirror. Here you can see the lines ~ some from laughter and many from worry. My eyes have seriousness at this distance which makes them difficult to rest in. Contemplating secrets that one might not wish to know. My age is more evident as well. Life’s traffic is clear and punctuated with the gray hair that I am learning to embrace. And I’m not quite sure how you see this, but you just know that I am weary. Truthfully, it’s painful to look. There is something unsettled about all of these things together. It made me cry.

Prettier from a Distance

And in that moment what came to mind is this: A snow storm is breathtaking to watch from inside where it is safe and warm, out of harm’s way, with no investment. It takes a special person to step out into that storm to really know it ~ in all of its fury and beauty together. But it takes an entirely remarkable person to rest there with trust and to look even closer. Only then it is possible to bear witness to the awe of a singular snowflake when it finally presents itself; and to realize that you are literally surrounded by that much beauty.

At the age of 47 I am still the only one that has been still enough to see this part of me. And, the truth is, I’m actually the prettiest when you dare to look this close.