Many times, I sit with my head in my hands, wondering what on earth am I doing with my life? I feel the passing of time as it whooshes by without looking back because let’s face it we cannot go back, not ever, at least not in any real sense. I see my reflection in the mirror when I can bear to look in the mirror that is, and know that I am she who is looking back at me. The girl in me is still there somewhere, I can see her in my eyes if I look closely enough. This me that I see staring back at me in the glass has the same curly hair but that which was once darkest brown/near black is now silvered and metallic. I see a few lines here and there, some that were not there before. Some have been there longer than others. They are my life lines, my story etched into my once smooth, once dewy skin. The mask of youth has been replaced by the mask of maturity and that’s okay. Wrinkles for that’s what they are, are the laughter, the joy, the sorrow, the anger, the confusion, the certainty of life. They are the information and data gathered over a life time of living. Sometimes I take those lines and allow them to take shape and form on a blank page, allowing them to flow freely from my fountain pen, then the ink runs dry and the current is interrupted once more.
Time to refill and flow.
© Liola Lee 2019