“I have forgot much, Cynara! Gone with the wind…”
There are some teeny, tiny shadows of a wrinkle beginning to form under my eye.
Corbin says I’m being paranoid, and I agree with that statement – no one else can tell except me, I still look much younger than I really am. I have good genes and take care of my skin. It’s such a small thing.
It’s a sign, though, that the inevitable is happening. I am aging. Why am I surprised at this? After all, I’ve aged to my late twenties now. I have lived the transformation of child to teen to adult. What makes this transition weird or frightening?
I’ve aways said I want to age gracefully, to be shining with joy inside and out, never obsess over gray hair or crinkles and be beautiful in spirit even as my outward shell fades away. I’ve always told myself that I’m going to be fiercely committed to embracing my age